Red vs Blue: Recreation
by BentleyGirl
Summary: The second part of the Recollections trilogy. Please read Reconstruction and Relocated to understand this part. Also please read and review. Rated T for swearing
1. Recap

**Just like the last main story, this first chapter is just a quick reminder to those who may have forgotten the last mini-series story, what with it coming out before the celebrations of Christmas and New Year.**

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Recap

_Outpost 17-B: Valhalla_

_Post-War: Year 1.25_

On a distant planet many light-years from Earth, in a small valley in the middle of a snowy mountain range, a great mystery was brewing. For a while, the valley was silent but then at the Blue Base, a voice suddenly called out, "Oh no, no don't!"

Then there was a loud explosion and a Spartan-II in blue armor was flung out of the main door. With a sigh, he got up and dusted the soot off his armor. "Ah, crap…"

On a ledge on the other side of the river, another Spartan wearing maroon armor watched through the scope of his sniper rifle as the blue soldier went back inside the Base. "Hmmm, I need to tell Sarge about this."

As he set off across the valley, he switched on the radio com-link in his helmet. "Sarge, come in, this is Simmons."

Then he heard Sarge's voice over the speakers. "Grif, I do not want to discuss this anymore. You need to shower on a regular basis, it's regulation."

"Sarge, hey Sarge," Simmons called out.

But then a second voice spoke up. "Why? Our suits are ventilated, they push out the stink."

"Grif, hello," Simmons yelled but no one responded. "God dammit."

As he approached the Red Base, he could hear Sarge yelling, "You're just gonna give away our position with those green wavy lines comin' off you."

"OK," Grif sighed. "I'll shower… occasionally."

"Every day," Sarge bellowed.

"Every day?" Grif cried. "How can I tell how long a day is, the sun never sets around here. Why the hell doesn't the sun set? Shouldn't we be talking about that first?"

Simmons spotted his teammates standing by the burning wreck of the Warthog Mk 3. Sarge looked round and spotted him. "Simmons, how'd the latest reconnaissance mission go?"

"Sarge, I have some really exciting news," Simmons said with breathless enthusiasm. "I just think everyone is going to find this very, very exciting."

"Well, spit it out," Sarge ordered.

Simmons took a breath and then said, "The Blues… are completely undermanned right now."

"What do you mean by 'undermanned'?" Sarge asked.

"What do you mean by exciting?" Grif added.

"It looks like they have received no reinforcements after the last mission," Simmons explained. "I need to double check my numbers, but if it's just Caboose over there, that means we have a 4 man advantage."

"Oooh…" Now Grif looked very excited. "What part do you need to double check? Is it the part where you counted their guys or the part where you counted our guys, 'cause they both sound really tough."

"Shut up, Grif," Simmons snapped. "No one's talking to you."

Sarge rubbed his chin as he pondered over Simmons' report. "Hmmm, this could be strategically advantageous."

"Or maybe it was the part where you subtracted 1 from 5," Grif continued. "Math can be hard. Hey Lopez!"

The brown robot pulled himself out from under the Warthog and glanced over at the Reds. "Si?"

"Fire up your calculator unit," Grif called. "We got a doozy!"

Lopez grumbled to himself in annoyance.

"He can't do that," Sarge cut in. "I had to remove that application in order to install a new free app I downloaded. It's a program that could be vital to the morale here at our new Base."

"Hace para e bruto ruidos," Lopez muttered. (It makes fart noises.)

Sarge let out a chuckle. "I don't want to spoil it for you boys, but let's just say it is high-larious."

"Digamos que usted es un idiota," Lopez retorted as he returned to his work. (Let's just say you're an idiot.)

"Actually, you _do_ need to recount," Grif suddenly realized. "We don't have five guys, we only have four."

"We got Donut back," Simmons reminded him.

"You can't count Donut!"

"Why not? He's unconscious right now, but when he wakes up-"

"Unconscious? He's been out for _three days_. I think it's okay to upgrade him to comatose."

"Well, I think we should count everyone." Simmons grabbed a small water barrel by the shore of the lake and started dragging it towards the Base. "I'm an equal opportunity counter."

"Yeah, because I'd hate to go into battle without Donut," Grif muttered sarcastically.

"I mean hell, if I'm counting _you_ as a soldier, I should count the vehicles, some of the bigger rocks we have lying around here, fuck it let's give the trash can a gun."

"At least I can subtract five and one without double-checking!" Grif retorted.

"Oh can you?" Simmons snapped back.

On a cliff overlooking the Red Base, a ghostly white figure observed the scene through the scope of his sniper before lowering the gun down with a sigh. "Great, I'm sure this'll all end well."

As he set off across the valley, he shook his head in dismay. "I just can't believe that those idiots are responsible for my death, twice! It's embarrassing is what it is. I mean if I was killed by an alien or a monster, or you know some kind of sorority blowjob massacre, that I could handle."

He stopped on the ledge that overlooked the Blue Base and looked out just as a red glow began to emanate from the doorway. "Oh no, fire!" Caboose's voice yelled. "That's bad. Bad fire! Bad fire, go away."

The figure rolled his eyes. "And look at this, _this_ is my legacy? I mean, what did I do in my life to deserve this?"

He could just see Caboose in the doorway as he tried to stamp out the fire. "Please stop burning," he yelled. "Nothing else burn, I mean it!"

The figure sighed and bowed his head. "It just seems like it's all gone so wrong."

Behind him, a ghostly black figure appeared and stepped next to him. "Well, what are you going to do about it, Church?"

Church turned round and looked at the new figure. "_Do?_" he asked. "What can I do, Tex? I'm dead, I'm gone."

"Oh come on, Church," Tex comforted, placing a hand on his shoulder. "They say you're never _completely_ dead if someone still remembers you."

"Yeah," Church scoffed. "But look who's left to remember me… _him?_"

At that moment, Caboose came running out of the base with his armor on fire. "Oh God, now I'm burning! That's much worse than other things burning!"

Church shook his head in dismay. "It sure feels like being dead, like all the way dead, like someone encased me in cement and then fired me into the sun dead."

"Oh God! Why does it keep chasing me?" Caboose then tripped on his own feet and stumbled into the creek which put out the fire. "Ahh, that's nice."

"It's just a long way back for us," Church moaned.

"Ok," Tex replied with a nod. "So then we're done?"

Caboose got out the river, shook his slightly scorched armor dry and then marched towards the Base. "Okay, let's try this again, _but with less fire on me this time!_"

Church let out a sigh. "No, no we're not done."

"Well, if we're not done, let's get started," Tex replied.

As they set off across the valley, Church turned to glare at Tex. "Hey, have I ever told you how helpful you are to me? I mean you're so full of fucking wisdom, what would I do without you?"

"I try my best," Tex answered as they faded away into nothing. "And you have no one to blame but yourself."

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**I should point out that Tex and Church are more metaphoric than actual characters in this bit.**

**Anyway, see you soon when I start on the story for real.**


	2. Don't Get Me Started

**Happy 2013, everybody! It's a brand new year with new hopes on the horizon, new dreams to discover and of course, a new story for my faithful readers. Since you're all intrigued by the little recap at the beginning, I will now begin the next part proper.**

**As usual, I don't own the rights to Red vs. Blue or Halo; they belong to their respective owners Rooster Teeth and Bungie.**

**So let's get cracking!**

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Chapter 1: Don't Get Me Started

In the distant valley known as Valhalla, a battle was about to commence. The members of the Red Team were preparing to attack the Blue Team on the other side. Weapons were armed, the Spartan-II super-soldiers were ready and everything waited on who made the first move…

Finally, the Sergeant of the Red Team climbed up the hill and made his move. "Attention, Blue Team!" he called out. "This is the Red Team! We are here to destroy you! Your long reign of being the shittiest team around is about to come to a sudden and cataclysmic end! We will give you a few moments to soak in the horrors of this announcement and then return for your reaction! Be right back."

He then stepped down from the hill and chuckled at his gathered men. "Alright, that oughta scare the bejeezus out of them."

"Actually, Sir," Private Simmons put in. "Since it's just one of them over there-"

"And the one is an idiot," Private Grif added.

"-I don't really see the point in psychological warfare."

"You're right, Simmons," Sarge replied. "It's not really accurate to refer to one person as a team. What's better? Blue Person? Blue Man? Bluetonian?"

Simmons sighed. "What I meant was-"

"Bluetard," Sarge interrupted.

"What I meant was," Simmons continued. "I don't see the point in announcing to him that we're gonna attack. Why don't we just do it?"

"There's an order to this, Simmons," Sarge explained. "We can't abandon protocol just because we have an advantage! We have to give him a chance to see the errors of his Blue ways, to lay down his arms and meet his fellow men at the table of peace, where we can work together towards a better world; a world that's better because we've poisoned his food at the table and stabbed him in the eye with a fork… then taken all his stuff."

Simmons was silent for a moment. "Dibs on the computers."

"Noted," Sarge said. "Now watch that base. Tell me if anything changes."

"Yes Sir!" Simmons headed towards the hill then stopped and turned round. "And Sir?"

"Yes, Simmons?"

"I just wanna say…" Simmons sucked in a breath. "I'm glad I was here to see you on your day of victory. It's been a long time coming."

"Yes it has, hasn't it?" Sarge agreed. "My skills as a leader have really taken us far. It must've been quite an honor to serve with me." He and Simmons stared at each other for a moment. "Uh… okay, glad we had this talk."

"Are you glad I'm here too, Sarge?" Simmons asked hopefully.

"Of course I am," Sarge replied.

"I knew it!" Simmons squeaked. "I just knew-"

"The squad's kill/death ratio is the most important measurement when evaluating sergeants," Sarge cut in. "If you had died, that would've hurt my numbers."

Simmons let out a sniff. "Glad I could help," he muttered dejectedly, climbing up the hill.

"It's better to keep a little padding in our stats," Sarge continued. "That way, if we're far enough ahead, I can stab Grif in the face and still stay in the lead."

"You know, I'm standing right here," Grif informed him.

"Right where I want you, within face-stabbing range," Sarge said smugly before switching on the radio in his helmet.

At the front of the base, Lopez was checking over the wreck of the Warthog Mk 3 when he heard Sarge's voice in his helmet. "Lopez, how are those vehicle repairs coming?"

"Se destruye el jeep," Lopez replied. "El no ser fijó." (Coming? The jeep is destroyed. It can't be fixed.)

"Got an ETA?"

"Si. Nunca." (Yes. Never.)

"Well, as long as I get it ASAP, 'cause I need it PDQ!"

Lopez rolled his mechanical eyes. "Entonces, nunca menos uno." (In that case, never minus one.)

"Lopez, you're a regular RFR – Really Fast Robot," Sarge chuckled. "Grif, make a note in the acronym journal. Simmons, status report!"

"Still just one Blue, Sir," Simmons replied, coming back down the hill.

"Lopez, status report!"

"¡Déjeme solo!" Lopez yelled. (You already talked to me, jackass!)

Sarge ran up the hill again. "Hey, Blue, don't think we've forgotten about ya! We're still gonna kill ya any second. Count on it!"

As he rejoined his team, Grif scratched the top of his helmet in thought. "Sarge, have you thought this invasion all the way through?"

"Of course I have," Sarge replied. "We beat the Blues: we win, you suck. That's all the way through."

"Uh, and who do we fight then?"

"We fight… uh, other Blues."

"But what if no more Blues come?" Grif pointed out. "I mean they haven't sent reinforcements _yet._ What if they never do?"

"Why would you want more Blues?" Simmons asked puzzled.

"Well, we have this new base and all this new equipment. Who else are we gonna test it on?"

"Who cares?! The war would be over!"

"Oh… great," Grif muttered.

"You're suggesting we _don't_ attack them?" Sarge cried. "Grif, that's borderline traitorism!"

"I think the word you're looking for is 'treason', Sir," Simmons corrected helpfully.

Grif then had an idea. "Never mind, Sarge, I was wrong. If the war's over and we win, well that's just great."

"Of course it would be!" Sarge agreed.

"I mean, no more early morning runs, no more training exercises. Why would we need to do any of _that_ stuff, right? We won!"

Sarge frowned. "Right…"

"And all this new equipment – we can just let them fall into disrepair. I mean, we won't need it! We won't even need to test it, because we're winning. We're about to make it all obsolete."

Sarge let out a groan.

"And just think about this, Sarge," Grif added with a smirk. "No more boring staff meetings… ever!"

Sarge groaned louder then he ran up the hill again. "Hey, Blue! There's uh, gonna be a slight delay in your destruction! Hang tight!" Then he turned back to his privates. "Maybe I should call our new Command. They'll tell us what we should do."

"Yeah," Grif snorted. "The old one was so great, the new one's gotta be even better."

Ignoring Grif's sarcasm, Sarge switched on the long distance radio in his helmet. "Command, come in Command! This is Blood Gulch Outpost- wait, I mean, uh… Simmons, what's the name of this place again?"

"Valhalla," Simmons replied.

"Valhaldagir-jaggle-callit... thingy… Outpost #1," Sarge said. "Do you read? Come in! I need advisement on what to do about Blue Team."

While Sarge was talking on the radio, Simmons rounded on Grif angrily. "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean, what am I doing?" Grif asked. "We have one enemy here. We can milk this for years!"

"No, Blue Team!" Sarge yelled. "_Blue…_"

"If we beat them, Command will just send us to some new base, where we have to fight a real team."

"So?" Simmons asked.

"_So_, do you want to fight one shitty enemy or five real enemies?"

"B-L-U-E, Blue," Sarge spelled. "Try looking under 'suck it!'"

Grif smiled at Simmons. "You want me to help subtract one from five? I know that's tough for you."

"Shut up!" Simmons snapped.

"Hey guys!" a new voice called out.

Grif and Simmons jumped in surprise and turned round to see a Spartan-II in slightly scorched blue armor standing by the hill, an assortment of machinery in one arm.

"Caboose, what are you doing here?" Simmons yelled.

"Just getting parts from the crashed ship," Caboose replied, indicating the tools and components he was carrying. "What are you guys up to?"

"We're deciding whether or not to kill you and wipe out your team forever," Grif said.

"Ah, sounds tough."

"We're kind of splitting the decision right now."

"Do I get a vote?"

"No!" Simmons shouted. "Get back to your base! Stop wandering around during your defeat. It's confusing!"

"Oh, okay, sorry." Caboose turned round and set off back into the valley.

"And what are you working on?" Simmons called.

"I'm still not telling you!" Caboose shouted back.

"Hello? Hello?" Sarge tapped the radio to try to get a signal. "Hello! They hung up on me!"

"Why?" Simmons asked.

"They said they didn't even have _record_ of a Blue Team, nothing on the Blues at all in their computer system."

"Oh." Simmons then gasped. "Ohhhh!"

"What?"

"We deleted them, remember? We wiped them out from Command's computers."

"We did?"

"Yeah, don't you remember?"

Sarge then nodded slowly. "Ohhh, right."

_Flashback_

_At the control room in Command, Simmons managed to get through the security protocols and located the Blues' files._

"_Simmons, execute the hypotenuse initiative and delete the Blues," Sarge ordered._

_With a nod, Simmons pressed a button on the keyboard and the files disappeared. "Done! The Blues now never existed. I also upgraded your paycheck while I was at it."_

"_Well deserved," Sarge nodded._

"_Yeah, we win!" Grif cheered then Sarge cocked his shotgun and shot him right through the head._

"_Blarg, I am dead," Grif groaned as he fell to the ground. "But that's okay. I don't deserve to enjoy victory. My life has meant nothing."_

"_What a great day!" Sarge beamed. "Simmons, transform into Motorcycle Mode."_

"_You got it, Sir," Simmons replied and in a few quick movements too difficult for the author to describe, he had now become a motorcycle. "Beep beep!"_

"_Let's get outta here." Sarge leapt onboard Simmons and drove out the control room and into the sunset. "Yee-haw!"_

_End rather ludicrous flashback_

"That's not what happened!" Grif yelled.

"Of course it is," Sarge argued.

"Then how am I still alive?" Grif pointed out.

"I ask myself that question every day," Sarge muttered. "Moto-Simmons, run him over!"

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***sighs and rolls eyes* Sarge has a very crazy imagination.**


	3. Free Refills

**A few surprises are in store for this chapter.**

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Chapter 2: Free Refills

At the Blue Base, Caboose used the components he'd collected to continue his project, after checking that the fire extinguisher was close at hand. The work was tiring, but he kept himself entertained by telling stories to his new friend, the storage unit that held the last remaining AI in existence, Epsilon.

"Then there was the time we got a tank," he spoke as he worked. "Of course no one knew how to drive it, but then there was a big fight and my team got in trouble. So I talked to the tank. She was really nice, you're really gonna like her. Anyways, the team was in trouble and I had to use the tank to drive out there to help them…" He frowned. "Well, help most of them…" Then he shrugged. "Er, some of them…" He cleared his throat. "Okay, let's just say this: I drove the tank, and some people got helped… and some other people didn't get helped. Details aren't that important."

He resumed his work and as he did, the Epsilon unit glowed a bit and gave a loud hum.

Meanwhile at the Red Base, Sarge was hunting all round the building, searching for someone.

"Grif, where the hell are ya?" he called as he hunted high and low. "Grif? Grif! Grif, come on!"

"I'm in here!" Grif called from the main doorway.

"Where are you?" Sarge shouted. "Grif, I need you!"

"_In here_, in the base!"

"I can't hear you!" Sarge cried. "Get out here!"

"Okay, damn." Grif came running outside. "What is it?"

"Where's Simmons?" Sarge asked.

"_Simmons?_" Grif spluttered. "If you wanted Simmons, then why didn't you yell like a lunatic for Simmons?"

"Damn it, Grif!" Sarge snapped. "I entrusted you with one duty, and that's to know exactly where Simmons is at all times so _I_ can find him. Simmons watches Donut, Donut watches me."

"Yeah, who watches me?"

"Nobody. You move less than Donut does. Now where's Simmons?"

"I don't know," Grif replied with a shrug. "He's downstairs in your hologram simulatron or whatever the hell you call it."

"Excellent work, Private Grif!" Sarge commended.

"Wow!" Grif beamed. "Thank you, Sir."

"I'm gonna recommend you for a big shiny medal!"

Grif's smile faded. "Okay, you're being sarcastic right now, aren't you?"

"Oh, absolutely!" Sarge replied then he frowned. "Wait, was your question sarcastic?"

"Who knows?" Grif replied. "Probably, unless- Wait, are you being sarcastic right now by asking that?"

Sarge and Grif stared at each other in awkward silence for a moment.

"Hmm," Sarge muttered. "Maybe we should drop this conversation."

"Yeeah," Grif agreed.

Sarge then stepped into the base. "What's Simmons doing downstairs?"

"Sorry, not in my job description," Grif shouted.

Sarge let out an angry sigh. "I'll ask him myself…"

Down in the hologram chamber, Simmons was hard at work, trying to fix up their new jeep, the Warthog Mk 3 v2. At this moment, he was working on the turret that would house the EMP launcher when he heard a voice calling out to him. "Simmons, there you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Simmons turned round to see Sarge approaching from the ramp. "Really? Sorry, Sir, I was just down here working on the jeep prototype. I know you really want to see it built, and we need to work on a few bugs in the design."

Sarge frowned. "A few bugs?"

"Yeah, you know, like the fact it stalls every time we fire the magnetic cannon, because you based it on an EMP."

"Oh, right!" Sarge remembered.

"It's kind of a critical flaw, if you don't mind me saying," Simmons said, climbing off the turret.

"Oh, I don't mind you saying!" Sarge replied. "Feedback is important."

"It's just that sometimes I feel bad criticizing your work," Simmons muttered sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "You know, because you're in charge and all."

"Simmons, there's no reason to feel that way!" Sarge admonished. "You're a valuable member of the team! I always find your feedback to be both insightful and appropriate."

Simmons looked up at this. "Really?"

"I know I can be rough sometimes. But that's only because it's hard being the leader! You know, dealing with those dirty Blues and that lousy Grif character all the time!"

"He _is_ lazy, Sir."

"I don't mean to complain, but sometimes… I just… need a friend…" Sarge let out a sniff. "Simmons, we've been working together a long time. I hope I can call you a friend, and that you can call me… the same."

"Gosh, Sir, I don't know what to say," Simmons breathed. "If it's okay with you, I would really like it if I could just call you 'dad'."

"Simmons, are you down here?"

"What?" Simmons looked up in alarm. "Yes!" he squeaked then he coughed. "I mean… yes! Give me a second, don't come in!"

He jumped in front of Sarge just as a second Sarge stepped onto the platform. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Nothing!" Simmons stammered. "I was just working on your jeep design and-"

"What? Stay away from my jeep!" Sarge bellowed. "It's perfect! You'll just mess it up!"

"Yes, Sir," Simmons sighed.

"And who are you talking to?"

Simmons quickly pressed a button on a hidden remote on his belt and the Sarge behind him flashed blue and disappeared. "Nobody," he muttered dejectedly.

**(A.N: I honestly don't know whether to be shocked at this or to feel sorry for Simmons because that's just sad.)**

"Well, get upstairs on the pronto," the real Sarge called. "We need to have a meeting, and I need someone to agree with me!"

"Do you want to brief me on the details first, so I know what I'll be agreeing to?" Simmons asked hopefully.

"Oh yeah," Sarge drawled. "I'll get _riiight_ on that, send you a memo."

Simmons perked up. "Really? Because I've been working on the template and I think it's ready to-"

"No, of course not!" Sarge cut in. "Why the hell would I do that? What, did you get exposed to radiation or something down here?" With a shake of his head, he left the room. "That boy's gone crazy…"

With a growl, Simmons pulled the remote off his belt and flung it to the floor. "I like my digital life so much more than my stupid real life."

At once, a holo-Grif appeared behind him. "I love boners!"

"Shut up, fake Grif," Simmons grunted, running off after Sarge.

He arrived at the meeting room where Grif and Sarge were waiting, their helmets removed and placed on a table behind them. "Finally!" Sarge cried. "Maybe now we can get _started._"

As Simmons removed his helmet and placed on the table, Grif noticed the despondent look on his teammate's face. "What's your problem?"

"Nothing, leave me alone," Simmons muttered.

Sarge paced in front of his privates. "Men, as you know, the Blues have been erased from Command records, for some unknown reason."

"_Unknown_, Sir?" Simmons cut in. "We're the ones that did it!"

"You can't prove that," Sarge argued.

"Prove it to who?" Grif asked.

"I think we can, because we're the ones that did it," Simmons replied.

"Allegedly," Sarge put in.

"Not allegedly. You told me to do it, and I did it."

"Reportedly. Let's not go accusing people and inviting a lawsuit until we know the facts."

"Who's gonna sue _us,_ us?" Grif scoffed then he frowned. "Wait, we're gonna sue ourselves?"

"I'm going to defer this conversation to my legal team," Sarge replied.

"So that means the staff meeting is over?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"We have too much to discuss," Sarge answered. "Isn't that right, Simmons?"

"Absolutely, Sir," Simmons sighed. "No one has ever been more right than you."

"Wow, someone's phoning it in," Grif murmured.

Sarge looked between the two privates with a grim face. "If the Blues aren't in Command's database, that means even if we destroy them in a resounding victory, it still won't count as a win! It's like we didn't even beat anybody!"

"Hey, that's right!" Grif gasped. "I never thought about that, Sir!"

"Meh, whatever," Simmons muttered.

"So that means we can't kill the Blues," Sarge said.

"Exactly," Grif agreed. "Because if we defeated them, it won't even count and that's the best part about winning a war: getting the points."

"Bingo!" Sarge cried.

"No, why would we try to win?" Simmons moaned. "It's only what we're supposed to do."

"We need to find a way to get them back into the database first," Sarge declared.

Grif thought it over. "So, the plan is to hold off our attack until our superior officers take notice of one of the teams in this canyon, _and_ notice them well enough to actually go out of their way and add them back into the database, or do anything at all in any way to formally recognize us in an official capacity?"

"You got it," Sarge replied.

"This is probably the single greatest plan I've ever heard in my entire life!" Grif beamed.

"You _would_ think that, kiss-ass," Simmons scowled.

"Simmons, can it!" Sarge snapped. "And thank you, Private… uh… Grif? Ugh!" he grimaced slightly.

"You're… welcome?" Grif replied unsurely. "Am I saying that right?"

"So, our first order of business should be to fortify our own team!" Sarge commanded, snatching up his helmet. "Get ready for the big battle! Let's get Donut back on his feet."

With that, they put their helmets back on, left the meeting room and made their way down to the sleeping quarters. Before Donut had arrived, the sleeping arrangements had been well thought-out: Lopez always slept standing up, Sarge took the big bed and Simmons and Grif took the bunk bed; Simmons on top, Grif underneath. But when Donut had come, things got a bit complicated but eventually Sarge worked out the best compromise: Donut took the bottom bunk and Grif had to sleep on the floor. And since Donut had been comatose for the past few days, Grif never had a good night's sleep at all.

Now Sarge, Grif and Simmons entered the bedroom to check on their pink teammate… only to find the bed completely empty and his helmet still on the floor next to it.

"Hey, where's Donut?" Grif asked.

"Simmons, where'd he go?" Sarge demanded.

"How would I know?" Simmons asked.

"Keeping track of Donut is one of your duties!" Sarge snapped.

"Ooh-hoo-hoo, busted!" Grif gloated.

"Ah, who cares?" Simmons muttered.

Meanwhile at the Blue Base, Caboose had taken a break from his work and was now sitting by the Epsilon unit with his helmet on his lap, still chatting merrily away. "And then there was the time we turned all of our armor black, because Tex was captured. You remember her, I told you all about her. It was a crazy adventure. Then there was another time when she helped us break into O'Malley's fortress, didn't I tell you that one already?"

Suddenly he sat up and looked around. "Hey!" he muttered. "Do you ever get the feeling that you're being watched by someone?" He turned to see a wobbly, blonde-haired figure in bright pink armor standing in the passage. "Donut, I'm asking you a question!"

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**Just be patient with him, he'll work it out eventually.**


	4. Visiting Hours

**Okay, it's been a while. Let's see if Caboose has figured it out yet.**

* * *

Chapter 3: Visiting Hours

In the valley, the Reds were on the move. Moments after they'd discovered Donut missing, they searched around their base and now they were heading for the other side of Valhalla, towards the Blue Base.

"Come on, men!" Sarge called as they ran. "Lopez said Donut went this way!"

"Are you sure… that's what he said?" Grif panted, lagging behind as usual. "I don't think 'pendejo'… was Spanish… for 'that way'."

Meanwhile at the Blue Base, Caboose had suddenly realized he had a visitor and got to his feet to look at the peaky pink private. "Muffin Man!"

"Caboose," Donut panted. "I have a message for Church. Wh… where is he?"

Caboose then noticed that Donut's face was very pale, his light-green eyes had lost its usual sparkle and his lips were cracked and bleeding. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Just a little weak," Donut muttered. "Where's Church?"

"Church?" Caboose glanced at the Epsilon unit briefly. "Oh um, he's not here right now."

"Where is he?"

"Um, he's um, he…" Caboose stammered. "That's kind of, uh, um… It turns out he's really a computer program based on some guy who ran the Freelancer project and he went with Agent Washington, he's a Freelancer who destroyed all the AIs that were left." He glanced at Epsilon again. "Well, almost all."

Donut listened in silence then he frowned. "How long was I asleep?"

"Not that long," Caboose replied.

With a loud gasp, Donut fell to his knees. "Listen… I don't know how long… I can stay awake. I need to give someone… on Blue Team… a message. I promised…"

"I know some people on the Blue Team, people on the inside," Caboose volunteered. "You can give it to me."

Donut struggled to get the words out. "Tuck-"

"Tuck! You want me to tuck?" Caboose asked. "What do you want me to tuck? Wait, my mother told me never to tuck anything of anyone else's."

"Tucker…" Donut gasped.

"Tucker?" Caboose repeated puzzled.

"He needs help," Donut moaned as he fell on all fours. "Find him… It's in… the sand…" And he slumped down onto the floor.

"It's in _this and_…" Caboose muttered. "This and what?" He knelt down next to the unconscious Red. "Donut, this and what? What is 'this'? Wait, uh, your pocket? Is Tucker in your pocket?" He lifted open one of the pockets in Donut's belt. "I remember him being a lot bigger. Tucker, are you in there?"

"Hey, anybody here?" a voice called out. "Blue, where are you?"

"Tucker, is that you?" Caboose shouted. "Why did you shrink? And why are you talking like a pirate?"

"Hello?"

"Hello! Yes, I hear you!"

"Then get outside! I need to talk to you!"

"Outside?" Caboose looked round and spotted the Reds standing outside the main door. "Ohhh, oh I see, I thought-" He laughed and slapped his forehead. "Man, sometimes I am so dumb." He looked back in Donut's pocket again. "Hold on, Pocket Tucker, someone outside wants to talk to me!" He got to his feet and patted the pink private's head. "Donut, you can rest here as long as you want. You must be tired from all of 'this and', and other stuff."

As he went outside, Donut rolled on to his back. "No… it's not pink… it's lightish red," he muttered deliriously. "Hey Sarge… I should totally get a jetpack… or a motorcycle…"

Outside, Caboose left the Base and met up with the other Reds. "Hi guys," he called out. "Great to see you… Wait, unless you're here to blow me up then… not so great."

"We're looking for somethin' we've, er… um, lost," Sarge replied.

"Is it the keys to your base?" Caboose asked. "I do that a lot, but it's really easy to break in because _there are no doors_."

"No, we're looking for somethin' else," Sarge said. "I'm not gonna tell you what it is and give some kind of advantage."

Caboose rubbed his chin in thought. "Can you describe it?"

"Yeah," Grif replied. "It's pink…"

"It's annoying," Simmons added.

"It has a kind of spring in its step," Sarge included.

"Ohh, you mean Donut," Caboose realized.

"Ah yes!" Sarge yelled. "Where is he?"

"He's in my base," Caboose replied, nodding towards the main doorway. "He'll be staying with me for a little while."

"You've captured him!" Sarge cried. "_Diabolical_… What are doing with him?"

"Don't worry," Caboose reassured. "He's resting, comfortably."

"Ooh, that sounds ominous," Grif muttered. "Don't back down now, Sir."

"Give him back!" Sarge demanded.

Caboose shook his head. "See, there's something he needs to tell me. I'll send him home after that."

Sarge's eyes narrowed. "Squeezin' him for information, eh?"

Simmons stepped forward. "Sarge, I don't think that he's-"

"Hey!" Caboose cut in. "No one is squeezing anybody. I was just working with my tools and he-"

"Torture?!" Sarge yelped. "You ungodly fiend, he won't give you any info! He'll die before he reveals anything. Hear that, Donut?" he shouted through the entrance. "You'll die before you talk, we all know that! Keep up the good work!"

"Actually, he already told me the beginning part," Caboose said.

Sarge gasped. "He told you about our secret new vehicle!? Damn it, Donut, you idiot!"

"Sarge!" Simmons yelled.

Caboose looked puzzled. "He told me about '_this and_'."

"He told you about that _and_ our new hologram chamber?!" Sarge cried out. "Donut, put a lid on it!"

"_Sarge!_" Simmons let out a sigh. "I'm gonna go sleep under a tree. Come wake me up when the brain summit is over."

"Are you kidding?" Grif asked, watching his teammate depart. "I hope this lasts forever." He then turned to his leader. "Psst, hey Sarge, maybe there's a ransom."

"Good thinking," Sarge hissed back then aloud, "What is it you want, Blue?"

"What do I want?" Caboose muttered. "Um… do you have any cookies?"

"What are your demands?" Sarge insisted. "You have to give us your demands."

"I demand cookies!" Caboose shouted.

Sarge glared at him. "You're just toying with us! Yer depravity knows no bounds!"

"Yeah!" Grif agreed.

"Well," Caboose grunted, turning away in a huff. "At least I don't go around knocking on people's non-doors, and promising them cookies and then NOT GIVING THEM COOKIES!" With that, he stormed off into the base, before poking his head out and yelling, "I'M LEAVING!"

"Wait!" Sarge called as Caboose ducked inside again.

"Hmm, looks like negotiations have broken down," Grif murmured. "Should we call in a nuke strike?"

"Negative," Sarge retorted. "We've got a man in there! Well, you know, Donut."

Just then, Donut's voice rang out from inside the Base. "OW! That hurt!"

"Oh, listen to that!" Sarge moaned. "He's killin' him in there!"

Inside the base, Caboose stepped back in embarrassment. "Oops, sorry Donut. I didn't mean to step on your hand like that. Are you okay?"

Donut sat up and rubbed his head for a moment before massaging his hand. "W-what happened? Who was that?"

"Oh that was your team," Caboose replied with a scowl. "They're playing some kind of prank… offering snacks and then not giving snacks."

"I hate it when they do that," Donut muttered. "Who was it?"

"Uh, it was Red Sergeant and Grif," Caboose answered. "They were working together while Simmons was lying under a tree, being lazy."

"What the…?" Donut cried out. "How long was I asleep _this_ time?"

"Donut, just don't tell him we have Lopez back!" Sarge called from outside.

* * *

**Funny how the fear of someone being tortured makes others blurt out their secrets, eh?**


	5. Catching Up

**This chapter is all about getting up to speed with the ones who missed our last adventure.**

* * *

Chapter 4: Catching Up

After getting a few drinks of water, Donut listened as Caboose told him all about the adventures he and the Reds had had. Then Donut recalled what had happened when he'd been called back to Command.

_Flashback_

_At the UNSC HQ, Donut was escorted to the main briefing room. As he entered, he saw several television screens lining the main wall. On one screen, the mysterious shadowed face of the man known only as the Counselor examined the young Red as he removed his helmet. "Private Donut, we want to debrief you now that your tour at Blood Gulch is over."_

"_Great!" Donut replied eagerly then his face fell. "Wait, _over?_"_

_The Counselor ignored him. "I'm just going to ask you some standard questions to rate your experience, and I will be filling out a form based on your responses. Do you understand?"_

"_Yes sir," Donut nodded with an eager salute._

"_All right; then let's begin." As the Counselor spoke, a list of questions appeared on the screen next to him. "During your employment, you were assigned to the Red Team. Is that correct?"_

"_That's right!" Donut replied. "You can tell by my lightish-red armor."_

_The Counselor frowned. "I'm a bit confused. By 'lightish-red', do you mean pink?"_

"_No, I _mean_ lightish-red," Donut retorted._

_The Counselor was silent for a moment. "Let's come back to this during the free-form period."_

"_Okey-doke," Donut agreed._

"_Now as to your experience in Blood Gulch, would you say it was-" As he gave the question, the responses appeared on the next screen. "…Satisfactory, somewhat satisfactory, or unsatisfactory?"_

"_I would say… satisfactory."_

"_All right, now I want you to look at this picture."_

_An image appeared on the screen and Donut looked at it for a moment. It showed a large rocky desert with areas that looked scorched. "Oh hey, I know where that is!"_

"_Which of the following best describes this picture?" the Counselor asked. "Would you say it is: A) the new location where your team was assigned, B) the source of a mysterious energy reading, or C)-"_

"_That's just where we landed," Donut interrupted._

"_Where you landed?" the Counselor asked puzzled. "Can you elaborate?"_

"_Yeah," Donut nodded. "We were defusing a bomb by this guy _Omega_, but then the bomb went off and it was such a huge explosion that it totally threw us into the future, and we landed there in that place."_

_The Counselor looked somewhat baffled. "I'm not sure I understand… the _future?_"_

"_Right," Donut replied. "Sarge said that since we were surrounded by ice when the bomb went off and then it was all sand, the Ice Age _must_ have ended, and that would have taken a really long time. So it must've pushed us into the future."_

_Again, the Counselor was silent. "I… don't have a check box for that. So I'm just going to write down 'other.'"_

"_Yeah, 'other' works," Donut agreed. "I like other."_

"_Well, I suppose there's no other reason to ask the rest of our questions," the Counselor decided. "Thank you for a very… _enlightening_ interview."_

_End flashback_

"…So, then after that, they transferred me to that new base," Donut concluded. "I guess we left before we were supposed to do what they wanted us to."

"That's a pretty crazy story, Donut," Caboose chuckled.

"But when I got there, all I found was the distress signal from Tucker." Donut closed his eyes as he recalled the moment that he'd found the beacon and the strange feeling of someone watching him. "It said to get Church. I think Tucker was captured." He opened his eyes and turned to Caboose. "There was something there… something scary."

"That sounds scary," Caboose muttered.

"Yeah…" Donut then became aware of something humming nearby and he turned to look at the source, a strange purple capsule marked with a sapphire-blue symbol that looked like a wide 'E'. "Hey, that thing sure makes a racket."

"Who, Epsilon?" Caboose asked. "Yeah, it does that when you talk to it. It loves when people tell it stories, especially about things, and of happiness and people we met…"

"You've been telling it stories?"

"Yeah you know, to the best of my memory."

Donut raised an eyebrow. "The best of _your_ memory?"

"Yeah."

"I bet those were some pretty weird stories." Donut stared over the Epsilon unit for a moment. "So, what is it?"

"Oh, it's a memory component from a bigger AI that a bunch scientists wanted to copy to make more," Caboose explained. "But they couldn't. So they drove it crazy until it developed a split personality and then they harvested all the different personalities for their experiments, yeah."

"Pretty weird," Donut muttered.

Caboose indicated all the mechanical bits and bobs scattered around the passage. "I'm using it and part of Tex's body and parts of Sheila to make a new super best friend… but it's not going so well. I lit myself on fire." He turned round to show the scorch marks on his back armor.

Donut thought for a moment. "Where did you get it?"

Caboose tried to remember. "We were on a big adventure, kind of like your adventure, and then we needed help kind of like you need help, and then we needed help and we got help from somebody… It was very helpful."

"Well…" Donut rubbed his chin as he pondered. "Could the person who helped _you_ help _us_ now?"

"Ohhhhhh," Caboose realized. "Oh?"

Sometime later, in a small compound at a distant planet, a lone disgraced soldier lay silently on his bed, feeling very low in spirit. He ran a hand through his brown spiky hair, rubbed his black-shadowed eyes and glanced down at the grey overalls that he wore then he glanced up at the ceiling with a sigh. How had everything gone so wrong in such a short space of time?

Just then, a guard in white armor came up and opened the door to his cell. "Washington, we got a call for you."

"A call for me?" Washington asked, getting up from his bed. "Who even knows I'm here?"

"It came in on your personal secure channel and they routed it to us." The guard pointed to a small computer console down the hall. "You can take it here if you want."

"Thanks," Wash replied , stepping out of his cell.

"Three minutes," the guard warned.

"What? Oh, yeah, okay," Wash muttered.

As he approached the console, he could hear it ringing and he pressed a button to answer the call. "This is Agent-" he stopped as he suddenly remembered then he sighed. "This is Washington. Who's there?"

On the screen, the image of a young man with close-cropped blonde hair, and dressed in blue armor appeared. "Agent Washington!"

"Oh, dear Lord," Wash groaned. "Caboose? How did you even find me?"

"You are on my computer screen!" Caboose replied. "I just looked at it!"

"No I mean- oh, never mind," Wash muttered. "What's going on, are you okay? I haven't heard anything about you."

"Oh yeah, I'm good. How 'bout you?"

Wash just shrugged. "All things considered, I guess I should be glad to be alive."

"Yeah," Caboose said. "Did you get a big medal for beating Project Freelancer?"

"Yeah, sure," Wash sighed. "I got a bunch more metal in my life now. How 'bout you?"

"They gave us shiny new bases!" Caboose exclaimed. "The Reds have their place and I have my own place! It's kind of cool! I think I'm gonna get a drum set."

"Yeah…" Wash muttered then he did a double-take. "Wait, seriously? You have a new base?"

"Well, it's not _new_ new," Caboose admitted. "They gave us the ones that were abandoned from Project Freelancer."

"They _gave you_ a base?"

"What, you didn't get a new base too?"

Wash sighed as he glanced up at a nearby wall that had the words UNSC MAXIMUM SECURITY DETENTION FACILITY marked on it in bright red letters. "No. No I didn't."

"Well, you can come here and share my base with me," Caboose offered then he suddenly remembered. "Oh, we need your help! Can you come right away? Can you come help us?"

Wash just turned away. "I don't think that's going to happen."

Before Caboose could say anything more, the guard came up from behind and cut off the line. "All right, Washington, back in your cell."

Wash turned round. "Guard, I need to see the Commander, now."

"Yeah, right," the guard scoffed. "Why the hell would I let you do that?"

With a quick glance at the screen, Wash gave a wry smile. "Because I think I just found the missing piece to his puzzle…"

* * *

**Ooh, looks like we'll be seeing our old friend sooner than we thought.**


	6. Local Host

**We're now on the next chapter and things are about to get interesting.**

* * *

Chapter 5: Local Host

At the Blue Base in Valhalla, Caboose started working the long distance radio to try and get the signal back. "Hello? Hello?" he called as he worked. "Agent Washington, are you there? Hello? Hello… Hello… Hello… Hello…"

"Umm, I think he hung up," Donut reasoned.

"No, I don't think so," Caboose said slowly. "I don't think he'd do anything like that. _Hello!_ Hello."

**(A.N: I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello… Sorry, I couldn't resist.)**

"Okay," Donut muttered. "Well, I think I'll just head back to my base. If you can think of anything to help me with that desert situation, just give me a ring."

"Okay," Caboose replied.

As they made their way down the corridor out onto the outer wall, Donut turned to Caboose. "Do you need any help with your Frankenstein-friend project?"

"Oh no. But uh, if you see any mechanical parts lying around that… _look_ friendly, would you save them for us?"

"Well, sure. I can ask Sarge if you can use his underground secret workshop. I heard the guys talking about it, it sounded _cool._"

"Oh right, they mentioned that earlier when they came by to pick you up."

"He doesn't usually like letting the enemy use our equipment, but maybe I'll catch him in a good mood."

"Oh, you could try killing the orange one first. That would probably put him in a great mood!"

"Yeah, that's a good idea and all. But we have all these rules against killing people from our own team."

"Lame," Caboose groaned.

"Tell me about it," Donut agreed.

"No, I don't think we have rules like that on Blue Team."

"Man, our team sucks." And with that, Donut stepped into the grav-lift and was launched out into the valley.

"Ohhh, so that's how it works," Caboose said.

He made his way back to the passage and sat down to think. "Secret underground workshop, huh?" he pondered, rapping his fingers on his helmet. "Well, I have to try _something_. I don't seem to be very good about doing this on my own."

Just then, a piece of equipment spontaneously exploded, setting the passage on fire. "All right," Caboose cried, grabbing the extinguisher. "Now how did that even start?!"

Meanwhile at the Red Base, Sarge was discussing his next plans to Grif and Simmons. "Men, with Donut captured, I think we should abandon our previous plans of _not_ attacking the Blues and institute a new plan, of _attacking_ the Blues."

"Good," Simmons said.

"Winning the war is one thing, but having a man captured is quite another," Sarge continued. "I can't stand by knowing we've left a man behind! So I need a volunteer to run a suicide mission. This won't be easy and you're almost certain to die!"

Grif looked nervous. "Why are you looking at me when you say that?"

"Thanks for volunteering, Grif," Sarge cried. "Now the plan is to run straight at Blue Base, grab Donut and carry him home over your shoulder, even if he's not hurt. That way, when the Blues track you down and kill ya, Donut will still have fresh legs to run home and avoid recapture."

Just then Simmons spotted a figure running over the hill towards them. "Um, Sir?"

"Quiet, Simmons!" Sarge snapped. "You've been too unreliable lately for a suicide mission. I think I need to go with a pro."

"Gee, thanks Sir," Grif muttered annoyed.

"Just get him back here!" Sarge sobbed. "I can't stand Donut being captured another minute!"

"Aw, that's sweet, Sarge!" a voice called out behind him. "Thank you!"

"What the…?" Sarge whirled round to see Donut standing at the bottom of the hill with a big smile on his face.

"Mission accomplished, Sir," Grif announced.

"Excellent work, Private Grif!"

"Thanks, Sir. Request permission to go AWOL for a few months?"

"Permission denied."

Grif shrugged. "Meh, I had to try."

Sarge then turned back to the pink private. "Donut, you're back! Are you okay? You look fine to me."

"I _do?_" Donut cried. "Well, I did switch to a new armor polish recently. Thanks for noticing, Sarge."

"No, I mean they didn't hurt ya!"

"_Hurt_ me?" Donut looked puzzled. "Oh no, not at all… And it's not a 'them' over there; it's only a 'him'. They only have one guy now."

"Just one soldier, eh?" Sarge pondered aloud. "That seems like it could be a tactical advantage."

"We already knew that!" Simmons yelled.

"And now it's confirmed," Sarge replied.

"Permission to switch Simmons to the Blue Team, Sir?" Grif asked.

"Permission denied."

"Meh, I had to try."

"Oh, fuck it," Simmons sighed, turning to go around the base. "I'm gonna go help Lopez with the jeep."

"Okay, Donut," Sarge said. "I want as much information as possible. Let's get you debriefed."

"That sounds like fun," Donut giggled. "Boy, things have really changed around here."

"That's not what I meant!" Sarge snapped.

Some distance away, Caboose watched the activity through the scope of the sniper rifle. Satisfied that the Reds were distracted on other matters, he turned, hoisted the harness that held the storage unit onto his back and put his helmet over his head. "Okay, Epsilon, let's get in there," he hissed. "And try to stay quiet, it's sneaking time."

As quietly as he could, he slipped around the other side of the Base and ducked behind some crates. He looked round to see Simmons and Lopez working on the Warthog Mk 3 v2 and rolled over to the crates on the other side.

"No, no," Simmons yelled at Lopez. "_That_ one goes _there_, _this_ one goes _here_."

"Ese agujero es el rededor como su boca gorda grande," Lopez grumbled to himself.

"Here, just let me do it," Simmons sighed. "Give me your wrench."

"Esta es un martillo idiota," Lopez snapped. (This is a hammer, you fucking idiot.)

Carefully, Caboose slinked along behind the crates until he could see the base's entrance. He then grabbed the crate next him and pulled it along with him, all the while whispering, "I am sneaking, I am sneaking."

On the other side of the crate, Sarge was trying to fish out information from Donut. "Did you tell him anything?"

"Not really," Donut admitted. "It seems like they had most of the information anyway."

"What?"

"Yeah," Donut replied. "I was actually surprised by how much information he had gathered about our weapons and facilities."

"We've got a leak!" Sarge cried. "Grif, find out who's been gabbin'!"

But Grif's attention was hooked on the crate sliding towards the Base's entrance, muttering, "Sneaking, sneaking, sneaking…"

"Grif, can you find the leak or not?" Sarge yelled.

Just then, the crate bumped into the ramp by the entrance and stopped moving. "Oh, what was that?"

"Uh, I'll get right on that, Sir," Grif muttered. "I'm sure the leak is someone very close to us, specifically someone very nearby me."

Despite that failed attempt at undercover stealth, Caboose managed to slip into the base and he made his way down to the hologram chamber, hoping to find some equipment that would help him with his project. But he was disappointed at what he found.

"There's nothing here?" he cried, removing Epsilon from its harness. "This room is _boring!_"

His voice echoed around the chamber so he called out again, "Boring… _boring_… boring… boring…"

Just then, the Epsilon unit began to hum loudly. "Epsilon, shush!" Caboose hissed.

But the unit just hummed louder and began to glow brightly. "Epsilon, seriously stop it!" Caboose yelled, placing the unit on the floor. "They're going to hear you!"

Suddenly, the unit split open like a flower and emitted a light so bright that Caboose had to cover his eyes. When the light faded, he lowered his hands and stared in amazement. "It's you…"

* * *

**And we'll find out what Caboose is seeing next time.**


	7. One New Message

**And now our story is about to go to the next level.**

* * *

Chapter 6: One New Message

As Caboose glanced around the chamber, the Epsilon unit split apart like a flower and emitted a light so bright he had to cover his eyes. When the light faded, he lowered his hands and stared in amazement. There, standing over the unit was a glowing green Spartan. "It's you!"

"Hello, Caboose," the holographic figure said in a soft electronic voice. "It seems vague to say that it's good to see you again, although technically, that is untrue…"

"Delta!" Caboose breathed. "I thought you were gone! I thought you were erased at the… uh, electronic thing whose name some people have trouble remembering."

"Actually, this is not Delta," the hologram replied. "We simply thought that you would be most comfortable speaking to Delta."

Caboose frowned. "We?"

"Yes. Epsilon strongly remembers all the other AIs in fragments. When Alpha went insane, Epsilons carried the burden of those memories. We can appear as anyone, in this case Delta whom, from your stories, was a trusted source of information for you. Therefore, we felt it best that we take his likeness for this conversation."

"Oh, that makes sense."

"Yes, we thought you would say that."

Caboose smiled with intrigue. "So you can… appear as anyone?"

"Theoretically, yes. Anyone in our memory banks."

"What about a chair?"

Delta gave a befuddled frown. "If you felt that was fitting, the holographic technology in this room allows us to project ourselves in any matter. It is surprisingly advanced."

"How about a giraffe?"

"Look," Delta retorted. "Let's just say we can look like many different things and just leave it at that, okay?"

"Okay," Caboose replied tensely.

Delta let out a sigh. "We regret that we will not be able to appear to you or communicate with you outside this room, so you must listen carefully." He then noticed that the Blue was looking very distracted. "Caboose, did you understand what-"

"I'm listening carefully," Caboose interrupted.

"All right, it can be hard to tell," Delta said. "Caboose, we need you to find a way to help us. Washington said, when Epsilon was recovered, that our memories could be used to punish the people who tortured Alpha."

"Okay," Caboose nodded.

"Washington will not trust us, and our new recent attempts to build a new body are not working."

Caboose pointed at his scorched armor. "We had a fire!"

"We remember," Delta confirmed. "Your friend from Red Team described a location nearby with a strange energy source."

"Oh, that's where Tucker is," Caboose recalled.

Delta looked puzzled. "We don't have many memories of him."

"Yeah, I never really liked him," Caboose admitted. "So I leave him out of most of my stories."

"The Freelancer Project found sources of intense energy, so a scenario team was sent to investigate the area, but they left without _doing_ anything."

"They sound dumb," Caboose snorted.

"Indeed," Delta agreed in deep thought. "This place sounds like the location of the energy source. You should go there and investigate. We can explain more when the opportunity arises."

"Okay. I can help you do that, even if it helps Tucker too."

"Thank you, Caboose." Delta then looked up towards the platform. "We have to go now. Someone is coming. Remember, memory is the key." And with that, Delta disappeared in a flash of light and the Epsilon unit closed up.

"What?" Caboose cried. "I thought we were done with that part."

"Aha! Somebody _is_ down here!" Sarge's voice rang out.

Caboose spun round and spotted the Reds standing on the platform overhead.

"See?" Simmons shouted. "I told you it wasn't me who moved your favorite crate."

"All right, Simmons, I said I believed you," Sarge sighed. "So just drop it already!"

"I don't know why you liked that stupid thing so much anyway," Simmons mumbled.

As the Reds made their way down the ramp, Caboose quickly stuffed the Epsilon unit back into its harness and slipped it onto his back.

"Hey Blue!" Sarge yelled as he approached. "What do you think yer doing here? You better not have messed up any of my stuff!"

"Messed up what?" Grif asked puzzled. "Everything down here is fake."

"Yeah, but who knows how he could've sabotaged the system," Sarge replied. "Better run a diagnostic."

"Yeah," Simmons scoffed. "If he sabotaged anything, I'm sure he just ended up fixing it."

"What do you think you're doing down here, Blue?" Sarge yelled.

"Nothing," Caboose lied as he made for the ramp, keeping his back away from the Reds' view. "I was just, um, I was just looking around. I need to leave anyways. I have to pack."

"See?" Grif beamed. "Problem averted. Back to- Wait, you're _leaving_ leaving?"

"Uh, I need to find my friend Tucker," Caboose replied.

"The guy in the desert?" Donut asked. "Awesome!"

"But then there won't be any more Blues here," Grif cried. "This means they'll probably send-"

"Actually, I'm gonna go find Tucker and bring him back," Caboose cut in. "Then there will be two Blues, plenty for you to fight!"

"Why don't I have confidence in this mission?" Grif muttered.

"Yeah, it sounds super dangerous," Caboose agreed. "But I'm sure I can manage. I've done dangerous stuff before and I've always come out fine, both physically and…" He paused.

The Reds glanced at each other nervously then Grif asked, "Uh, Caboose?"

"Mentally!" Caboose finished.

"Yeah, this is not going to work," Grif sighed. "Hey Sarge, permission to go on the Blues' stupid mission?"

"What?" Sarge and Simmons asked at once.

"Don't you see?" Grif explained. "If he dies on this mission – and let's be honest, _when_ he dies on this mission – that means they won't be back in Command's records yet."

"Well, that's not good," Sarge agreed.

"But if I help him pull this off, then Command might notice them and put 'em back in."

"Excellent point, Grif," Sarge declared.

"No, it isn't," Simmons muttered.

"Permission granted."

Grif frowned in confusion. "Um, you've never actually said that to me before. That means yes, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay, just checking."

"And I'm coming with you."

"What?" Grif asked.

"WHAT!?" Simmons yelled.

Sarge turned to his pet private. "Simmons, how 'bout you, ya in?"

"Uh, I think I'll stay at the base and provide logistical support, Sir," Simmons decided.

"Sounds good," Sarge replied then he turned to Caboose. "Let's get a move on! We'll either restore the Blues or we fail and I get to watch you die! It's a no-lose!"

"Sounds perfect!" Caboose replied, following him out of the chamber.

"Wait!" Grif yelled. "You mean Simmons will get to hang out at the base while I go out on a dangerous mission?"

"That's right," Simmons chuckled. "Enjoy the limelight, Private Kiss-Ass. I'll just be hanging out here with Donut until you get back." He then yawned and stretched his arms. "I think it's time for a nap."

"Oh man, this is going to be great," Donut cried. "It'll be like a sleepover! And _we can decorate_. How awesome is this gonna be? I'll go get my wallpaper book. Simmons, you be thinking about paint colors!"

Simmons and Grif watched Donut go then they both sighed. "Aw man, I think I'm regretting this already."

* * *

**Well, you guys can't back out now. It's part of the No Take Backs Accord.**


	8. Bon Voyage

**We're now ready to begin our next great adventure!**

* * *

Chapter 7: Bon Voyage

With a new goal ahead of them, Sarge managed to urge Lopez to hurry up the upgrades on the Warthog Mk 3 v2. Although Lopez grumbled a bit, he finished the work on the jeep then Sarge spray-painted some red stripes on its sides and soon it was ready for departure.

As Grif and Caboose loaded their cases into the trunk under the turret, Sarge gave Simmons and Donut some instructions to do while he was gone. "…And get these water cans cleaned up while we're gone. How much water do you need to drink, Donut?"

"I was in a desert!" Donut protested. "Don't judge me."

"Maybe we should learn from that and bring some water ourselves," Grif suggested.

"Nonsense," Sarge replied. "It'll just slow us down."

"Slow us down more than dehydration, or death… by dehydration?"

"I don't know, smartass," Sarge retorted. "Let's say we try! I'll kill ya, and then I'll dry ya out. Who wants Grif-jerky?"

"Ah, no thanks," Caboose replied. "I already had donuts for breakfast."

Grif looked round at this. "Wait, what?"

"All right, let's get going," Sarge declared. "Everybody packed?"

"Yep," Caboose said.

"Where's your stuff?" Grif asked.

"Oh, I only carry a washcloth and six toothbrushes."

Grif frowned. "I'm gonna assume that makes sense to you."

"Yeah, it does."

"Yeah, I thought so," Grif muttered, loading Sarge's case into the trunk. "We'll just go ahead and leave that one alone."

He then went to the front of the jeep, and while his back was turned, Caboose quickly loaded the Epsilon unit into the trunk before stuffing a small ring on a chain into his pocket.

Sarge meanwhile was staring at a huge pile of suitcases by the jeep. "Grif, why'd you pack so much?"

"_Me?_" Grif cried. "I only did one duffle."

"Well, what are all these cases?"

"Those are mine!" Donut called out.

"Donut, you're going with us?"

"No," Donut admitted. "But I wasn't gonna let you guys have all the packing fun to yourselves! That's the best part about going on vacation. I mean, besides airport security's full-cavity search-"

"Time to go!" Grif cut in as he climbed into the driver's seat.

Sarge then turned to his robot. "Lopez, I want you to take good care of Simmons and Donut while we're gone."

"¿Yo?" Lopez asked. (Me?)

"Feed them every day…"

"¿O sin plomo e stupendo?" (Do they eat Unleaded or Super Unleaded?)

"Exactly, and don't forget to let them out in the yard every now and then."

"I _love_ yard time," Donut giggled.

Simmons ignored him as he waved to his leader. "Goodbye!"

"If we don't make it back from the mission, bury me and Grif as far apart as possible," Sarge informed them. "I don't want to get any corpse cooties."

"Why do you assume _I'll_ be dead?" Grif asked before suddenly remembering. "Never mind."

"All aboard!" Sarge yelled. "Let's get this show on the road!"

Grif started the engine and loud Tejano music blared through the radio. Sarge climbed into the passenger seat while Caboose took position behind the turret.

"Hey, be careful with the new gun," Sarge warned. "It hasn't passed any real world testing yet."

"It hasn't passed any _fake_ world testing," Simmons pointed out. "It's passed zero tests."

"Which means the enemy can't possibly know about it," Sarge argued. "We've got the initiative!"

"Yeah, we got something, ya big dummy," Simmons muttered irritably.

"We'll be back as soon as we help the Blue," Sarge promised. "And then we'll kill him."

Behind the turret, Caboose beamed at Sarge and Grif. "Guys, I really appreciate this."

"See you soon!" Sarge called with a wave. "Try not to get into any trouble!"

And with that, Grif hit the pedal and the Warthog drove off into the lake and disappeared beneath the surface, a trail of bubbles the only clue that they were there.

"Are we there yet?" Caboose griped.

"No!" Sarge yelled.

"Shut up!" Grif added.

"Good luck!" Donut shouted as he watched the bubbles disappear.

Lopez then turned to him. "¿Acaban de conducir en el agua?" (Did they just drive into the water?)

Donut was about to reply when he spotted Simmons running towards the upper level. "Hey, where are you going?"

"To blow up Blue Base," Simmons called back.

Donut grimaced. "Oh, I think that's what Sarge meant by 'get into trouble.'"

"I don't give a fuck!" Simmons yelled as he was launched by the grav-lift into the valley.

Some distance away, at a small beach, a seagull hopped along the shore, pecking at a little crab. Just then, loud music began to play from the water and the seagull looked round to see a vehicle emerging from the sea and it flew off with a squawk of alarm while the crab scuttled away.

"Can we stop again?" Caboose called out. "I have to pee."

"_Again?_" Grif yelled, bringing the jeep to a stop.

"Well, my suit leaks!" Caboose jumped off the turret and ran towards some trees. "And I had to drink _a lot_ on the way here, a lot!"

While they waited for Caboose to finish his business, Sarge and Grif stepped out to stretch their legs, shake their armor dry and to throw out some fish that had gotten caught under the dashboard. The journey through the sea was long, but fortunately their emergency oxygen supply in their armor had prevented them from drowning.

As Sarge pulled some seaweed off the windscreen, he looked down at the ground. "Look, Grif, sand!"

"Yeah, we're on a beach," Grif said, removing his boot to let some water out.

"Donut said there was sand," Sarge recalled. "That means we're on the right track."

"Know what else he told us? The coordinates to where we're going." Grif pointed to the tracking screen.

"Another clue!"

"That's not a clue!" Grif yelled as Caboose came back from his toilet break. "There's no mystery. We're _driving_ there."

"Come on," Sarge said, climbing back into the jeep. "Let's get going before the trail gets cold."

Grif sighed as he and Caboose got on board then they set off across the beach. "I have to go to the bathroom again," Caboose whined.

As the jeep drove over the dune, the gull and the crab came back and helped themselves to the discarded fish.

Back at Valhalla, Donut and Lopez stood on a hill that overlooked the Blue Base. After a while, Donut turned to the robot. "Lopez, Simmons has been gone a really long time."

"No cuido," Lopez muttered. (I don't care.)

"If Simmons blows up Blue Base, Sarge is gonna be really mad."

"Sí. Él es estúpido como ése." (Yes. He is stupid like that.)

Donut let out a sigh. "I'm worried about him."

"Sí, porque usted es estúpido como ése." (Yes, because you are stupid like that.)

"I think I'm gonna go over there and check on him," Donut decided.

"Lo que," Lopez muttered as the pink private ran off. (Whatever.)

Meanwhile, Sarge, Grif and Caboose were approaching their destination, the distant desert outpost known as Sandtrap. As they ramped over a sand dune, Sarge let out a "Yeee-hawww!" then broke off in a cough seconds before the jeep landed. "I told you not to make jumps bigger than my yee-haws! It makes me look bad!"

Grif looked up and spotted a huge stone spire pointing out of the sand like a giant's finger and surrounded by some smaller buildings. "Okay, this looks like it."

"Be careful, Grif," Sarge warned as they entered an area dotted by flashing yellow lights. "We don't want to get spotted."

Just then, a booming voice rang out from a hidden intercom. "Halt. Do not go any further."

"I think we've been spotted," Caboose gulped.

"Punch it, Grif!" Sarge ordered.

"You are attempted to access a restricted area," the voice called, "and you have entered a minefield."

Grif slammed on the brakes so hard that the Warthog spun 180 degrees before stopping. "A _what?_"

"A minefield, you idiot," the voice replied.

"_Your_ field?" Caboose shouted. "Who says this is your field? You can't own a field!"

"Caboose, not _his_ field, a _mine_field!" Grif yelled.

"You know, the American culture said the Earth doesn't belong to us," Sarge argued. "We belong to it."

"Guys, he means explosives!" To prove his point, Grif pulled out a large fish and flung it into the field.

Sarge and Caboose watched as the fish landed on the sand before there was a loud explosion and its remains splattered across the Warthog's bonnet. "Ohhhh…"

* * *

**Yeah, now you guys see it, idiots.**


	9. Directions

**Back into danger we go for this chapter.**

* * *

Chapter 8: Directions

At Valhalla, Simmons made his way into the Blue Base when he tripped on something and fell flat on his face. When he looked round, he saw that he had tripped on the body of a black-armored Spartan then he noticed several pieces of machines and equipment scattered around the passage. "What the hell is all this stuff?"

"Oh, there you are!" Donut called, entering the passage. "Did you blow up the base yet?"

"Look at this mess, Donut" Simmons grumbled, getting to his feet. "It's like he wrecked the place."

"Oh yeah, that's Caboose's project," Donut replied.

Simmons stared at him in amazement. "This is what he's been working on?"

"He's trying to rebuild a body for that blue buddy of his." Donut glanced around at the mess. "Hmm, it looks like a piece is missing though."

"For the dead guy? Gimme a break," Simmons scoffed. "No wonder no one ever wins this war. We're all doing stuff like building lame robots."

Donut then pulled a face and pointed behind Simmons who turned round to see Lopez right there. "Oh, hey, Lopez," he stammered. "Uh I didn't mean you, I meant other… robots…" But Lopez just turned and ran out the door.

"That was kind of racist," Donut muttered.

"That's not true!" Simmons yelled, running out after Lopez. "I have _lots_ of mechanical friends!"

At the minefield at Sandtrap, Sarge, Caboose and Grif carefully dismounted the Warthog and looked around for the source of the voice before they spotted a huge Elephant-Class mobile base by the edge of the field.

"Do not under any circumstances move," the voice called out through the intercom. "You have entered an active mine field."

"Does thinking count as moving?" Caboose asked. "Because if it does, I think I might've moved. Oops, I did it again."

"Shut up, Caboose!" Grif snapped.

"Well, I don't want to get exploded!" Caboose hissed.

"How do we get outta here?" Sarge shouted.

"We will guide you out," the voice replied.

"Great! Let us wait for you to come out here then."

"What? No, _fuck that!_" the voice yelled. "Listen, we're not coming out here, okay? Hang tight. We're gonna upload the schematics… we'll be right back. Don't. Move."

As they waited, Sarge turned on his unfavorite private. "Grif, what were you thinkin' driving us straight into a mine field?"

"Me?" Grif cried. "You were in the passenger seat. That makes you the navigator!"

"What are you talkin' about?"

"Everybody knows that. You're in charge of directions!"

"No! The shotgun seat is reserved for the position of respect, and for people who carry shotguns, see?" Sarge raised his shotgun and made a clicking noise with his tongue. "Quid pro quo. Now Grif, here's the plan: You walk in front of us, very slowly."

"No."

"If you hear anything that sounds like a small metallic click, or feels like your legs are being blown off, just say, 'Found one!'"

"No!" Grif yelled again.

"Uh oh!" Caboose gulped. "I think I just thought about something again."

"Both of you shut up!" Sarge snapped. "I need to think of a way out of this mess."

"You mean the mess _you_ navigated us into?" Grif retorted.

Sarge glared at him. "How 'bout I come over there and navigate my fist through your forehead?"

"Okay, bring it," Grif taunted, waving at Sarge in an urging gesture. "Just stroll on over here across the minefield and beat me to death."

"Maybe I will." Sarge raised his hands and made to step forward.

"Bring it!" Grif urged.

"Look, we can hear you talking," the voice yelled, cutting into their bout. "Do not move, okay, seriously!"

Sarge grumbled as he moved back to his spot.

"It's not my fault," Caboose called out. "I'm not moving. I'm not even thinking about moving."

Grif glanced over the field then turned to his leader. "Sarge, since we may not make it out of this, maybe there's a few things I should tell you, you know, since you can't move."

"Grif," Sarge warned.

"Like the reason why I never listen to you, or never follow orders, and why I don't think anything you say is ever important."

Sarge let out an angry growl.

"But I want you to understand, Sarge, it's not because I'm lazy. It's because I don't like you, or respect you, in any way. I have no positive feeling for you."

Sarge growled louder then he took out his shotgun and pointed it at Grif's head.

"Now I can imagine it can be pretty hard to be an ineffective leader with no respect-" Sarge fired the shotgun at him. "-who doesn't understand that his primary weapon has an effective range much shorter than most weapons, but I think since we're gonna die anyway, you deserve to know that."

"All right, I'm back," the voice called out just then. "Ready? We're gonna guide you out of there."

Grif glanced at the Elephant then turned to Sarge with a nervous chuckle. "You know I was kidding, right?"

Back at Valhalla, Simmons caught up with Lopez as he reached the stream. "Hey, Lopez, wait up!" he called out. "Hey man, I need some explosives."

Lopez turned round but he didn't reply.

"To blow up Blue Base?" Simmons added. "You know… did Sarge give you the key to the weapons locker?"

"Si," Lopez replied.

"Okay, I need about 50 kilos of plastic explosives," Simmons said. "Technically, five should do it but I really want to blow the _fuck_ out of that thing. Can you go get it for me?"

"Miraré en ese," Lopez replied but he didn't budge. (I will look into that.)

"Uh… I need it right now?"

"Sí. Ahora comenzaré eso," Lopez stated without moving an inch. "Míreme van." (Yes, I'll get right on it. Look at me go.)

Simmons raised an eyebrow. "Hmm, you don't seem to be moving."

"Si," Lopez nodded.

Simmons glared at him. "This is about that robot comment isn't it?"

"Quizás," Lopez replied with a shrug. (Maybe.)

Back at the minefield at Sandtrap, Grif climbed into the jeep and he, Sarge and Caboose got ready to follow the voice's instructions.

"Okay, gentlemen," the voice explained. "Here's how we're going to do this: We'll guide the two guys in front out, and you in the jeep, just follow them."

"Okay!" Grif gulped, his hands gripping the wheel tightly.

"Uh, I'm scared," Caboose whimpered.

"All right," the voice said slowly. "Start by taking two steps forward and then turn to your right."

"A step ain't exactly a standard measurement, buddy," Sarge retorted.

"Just a step," the voice explained.

"Yeah, I get it! But what's a step? Like this…" Sarge took two steps forward then stepped back. "Or _this?_" He then charged forward… straight onto a mine! "Whoa!" he yelped as he was blown back.

"Just a step!" the voice yelled.

"Okay, no problem, just a step!" Gingerly, Sarge and Caboose took two small steps forward and Grif inched the Warthog after them.

"All right," the voice sighed. "Now, walk four steps to your right."

"You mean our right?" Sarge asked.

"Yes."

"Our-our right or your-our right?" Caboose asked.

"There is no 'my-your right'!"

"Is left north of you?" Sarge then asked. "Or is it… which way is it on the compass?"

Caboose then spoke up. "Uh, what about-"

"Just walk to your right!" the voice yelled.

With a nod, Sarge and Caboose took four steps to their left.

"No!" the voice yelled just as another mine went off.

"Sorry!" Sarge and Caboose yelped as they ran back.

"You know what? Fuck it," Grif screamed. "I just can't take this anymore!" With that, he took off like a missile across the mine field, setting off mines as he went while Sarge and Caboose ran off after him.

"Yeah, uh fuck it," the voice agreed. "Just run!"

* * *

**I could have told them that and saved them all this trouble.**


	10. My House, From Here

**Some new characters will be introduced in this episode.**

* * *

Chapter 9: My House, From Here

After several minutes of narrowly missing exploding mines, Grif finally made his way out of the field only to crash the Warthog Mk 3 v2 into the side of the Elephant.

"Aw dammit, Grif!" Sarge yelled. "Look at what ya did now! You busted up a brand new jeep."

"Me?" Grif retorted. "You were the idiots that started setting off mines."

"Well, _I_ managed to get outta there and not get hit by anything," Sarge argued.

"Because you jumped on the roof of the car," Grif snapped as he got out the jeep. "That's cheating."

"No, it's called strategy," Sarge replied, letting go of the roof.

"Well, your 'strategy' broke the jeep, so don't go blaming me," Grif countered. "And the Blue guy's dead too, how are we gonna explain that?"

While they were arguing, a door on the side of the Elephant opened and a soldier jumped out and ran up to them. He was dressed in dark-brown armor with white shoulders and a helmet (that looked more like a gasmask than the standard helmets that Sarge and Grif wore) with white marks on the front and glowing yellow eyes now dulled in anger. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"We don't need to explain why he died, Grif," Sarge shouted, ignoring the soldier. "We're Reds! Killing Blues is our business. And today, business is good."

"But we didn't kill 'im!" Grif shouted. "He stepped on a mine and blew up. And _he's_ the reason that we're on this mission, so now what?"

"Hmm, I see your point," Sarge conceded. "So let's have a moment of silence in honor of the dead Blue guys. Bow your head."

"Hey, are you listening to me?" the soldier yelled.

"Do you mind?" Grif hissed as he and Sarge took off their helmets and bowed their heads. "We're having a moment of silence. Show some respect."

"What?" the soldier cried and Grif just shushed him.

Sarge then began to pray. "Dear Lord, we thank you for taking another Blue back to Heaven today, or rather _not_ Heaven but whatever fiery pit you send the Blue to so they can suffer in eternity. You should have taken Grif, but you didn't, _again_. Not sure why, it would've been easy! Those mine things are everywhere! But I guess you know what you're doing."

Just then a loud screaming began to build up from above and suddenly Caboose plummeted out of the sky, where he'd been thrown up by the mine, and crashed right next to the Warthog, sending sand flying up and leaving him lying in a big sandy crater. "Wow," he grunted in a voice now hoarse from the screaming. "Now _that_ was a big explosion."

Grif looked round and spotted him. "Blue guy's back."

"I was really high," Caboose called, staggering to his feet. "Did anyone get a picture?"

Sarge glanced at him then continued his prayer. "Well, now you brought him back. And Grif's still here! I hate to criticize, but you could've had him land on Grif and squash him! That would've been easy! Just a note, you can take it or leave it, like I said, it's not really my place to criticize. Okay, the end, amen."

Having watched the whole thing, the soldier just shook his head. "What the fuck is wrong with you people?"

"Whoa!" Sarge turned round to see the soldier for the first time and quickly recognized him as the owner of the voice who'd tried to help them. "Now who are you?"

"Who am _I?_" the soldier yelled. "Who are _you?_ I'm supposed to be here. You guys are accessing an area on lockdown."

Sarge frowned. "Lockdown?"

"This is a restricted site," the soldier replied. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, uh," Caboose said. "We were just looking for, uh-"

Sarge quickly slapped a hand over Caboose's helmet filter. "Oh, we're just passing through on the way to meet up with the rest of our squad."

Just then a Mongoose ATV drew up on a distant dune and the figure on board waved at the soldier. "Oh great," he sighed. "Stay here. Don't move and don't touch anything."

Grif waited till the soldier was out of earshot then he turned to Sarge. "Why didn't you ask about Tucker?"

"We don't know anything about these guys," Sarge replied, taking his hand off Caboose's helmet. "What if they're the ones causin' trouble for Tucker? We don't know if we can trust them yet."

"Oh right, because normally you guys are the ones who cause trouble for Tucker," Caboose recalled.

"Right," Sarge agreed. "That's our job."

Meanwhile in Valhalla, Lopez was walking back to the Red Base but Simmons was still trying to apologize to him. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, take it easy!" he called out. "Listen, Lopez, I'm not racist. I just didn't know you were standing there when I said that."

Lopez stopped walking and turned to glare at him. "Cómo eso le hace no racista?" (How does that make you not racist?)

"I had a lot of mechanical friends while growing up," Simmons replied. "Seriously, I am not a racist."

"Lo que," Lopez muttered. (Whatever.)

Simmons removed his helmet and pointed out the mechanical parts built into his face. "In fact, I'm one-eighth cyborg."

Lopez looked up at this. "Si?" (Really?)

"Yeah."

"En el lado de su madre?" (On your mother's side?)

"Yeah, you know, from my accident, when Sarge replaced all my organs."

"Oh de hecho." (Oh, right.)

"See?" Simmons beamed good-naturedly. "I'm down with the one-zero-one… zero-zero-one… thing."

"Nadie llamalos en eso," Lopez replied. (No one calls it that anymore.)

"Look, I'm just saying I'm _sorry,_" Simmons sighed. "Now can you help me with those explosives? Please?"

Lopez gave a begrudging sigh. "Si." (I guess…)

"Okay… then we're cool?"

"Si. Bueno." (Yeah, we're cool.)

"Oh, that's a relief," Simmons sighed, replacing his helmet. "I was getting worried there for a minute. I know how you Mexicans like to hold a grudge." He suddenly noticed that Lopez was glaring at him again. "I'll just find another way to blow up the base."

"Buena suerte con eso," Lopez said, turning to continue his trek back to base. (Good luck with that.)

Back at Sandtrap, the soldier came back to the group, followed by the Mongoose driver. "Okay, now we want the three of you to go-"

"WHOA!" Sarge, Grif and Caboose yelped as they noticed the soldier's companion.

The driver was quite tall, with grey skin and dressed in bright purple armor. Its double-jointed legs ended with feet that had two toes each and in one of its three-fingered hands it clutched a strange looking gun loading with glowing darts. Its head didn't have any distinct features except for a lower jaw that was split into four mandibles.

"What the…?" The solider then realized they were looking at his friend. "Oh right! Sorry, I'm so used to working with aliens now that I forget that some people don't have any experience."

"Oh, we've got _experience_ with these things," Sarge replied, "some of us more than others."

The soldier's helmet eyes flashed brighter. "You guys fought aliens during the War?"

Sarge and Grif looked over to Caboose who simply bowed his head in remembrance of his alien friend Crunchbite.

"Yeah, something like that," Grif muttered, shuddering at the memory of his being drugged and interrogated by O'Malley's alien lackeys. "Let's just say we got a little closer to them than we thought physically possible."

"Well, don't worry about ol' Smith here," the soldier reassured, patting the alien on its slimy shoulder. "He's really friendly."

"Yeah, that doesn't really put us at ease," Grif muttered.

Meanwhile, at the UNSC Maximum Security Detention Facility, Washington was being escorted down the halls by a guard.

Soon they stopped by a huge door and the guard turned round. "All right, Washington. The man in charge has agreed to see you. You have five minutes. Do anything aggressive, and I'll shoot you. Do anything weird, and I'll shoot you. Do anything I don't like-"

"And you'll shoot me, I got it," Wash sighed. "I think I've identified the pattern."

"Talk back again, and I'll shoot you," the guard warned. "I don't know why he's even seeing you."

"Because I know something he wants to know," Wash replied mysteriously.

"Well, good for you," the guard sneered, stepping up to a scanner. "You have five minutes."

Wash sighed. "I guess I should say thank you."

"I guess _you_ should get going. Your five minutes already started."

The guard put his hand on the scanner and the door slid open. Wash stepped into a dimly lit room with only a table and chair and a small monitor on the ceiling. As he looked round, a gentle British voice spoke from the monitor. "My dear Agent Washington, I'm so pleased to make your acquaintance. Do come in, I feel that we have much to discuss."

* * *

**Oooooh, now things are getting mysterious.**

**SPOILER ALERT: It's not going to be Wyoming.**


	11. Lay of the Land

**We're about to come to terms with the new area.**

* * *

Chapter 10: Lay of the Land

At Valhalla, Simmons was thinking of other ways he could destroy the Blue Base when he spotted his teammate approaching. "Donut, where have you been?"

"Just seeing if the guy at Blue Base had anything valuable to move out," Donut replied. "You know, before we burn it to the ground. Caboose asked me to house-sit."

Simmons looked up intrigued. "Did they have anything valuable?"

"Well, I'm not gonna tell _you!_ You'll just find it and burn it."

"Yeah, that's true," Simmons agreed. "But tell me anyway."

"Nah, there's not much over there," Donut admitted. "Just some spare parts from Caboose's 'build a new best friend' project… and it looks like he took that AI unit with him."

"So dumb," Simmons muttered then he gasped. "Wait, what? AI unit?"

"Yeah, it was kind of cool," Donut replied. "It was purple and it liked to hear old stories about-"

"What? He kept that!?" Simmons yelled. "He wasn't supposed to keep that! I thought he turned it in! That was part of the deal for getting our bases! We had to turn over all equipment!"

Donut frowned and scratched the top of his helmet. "You're talking to me about things that don't really make any sense. I've been kind of gone. I don't know if you noticed."

"I'm gonna tell Sarge and have him get it back from that idiot." Simmons then ran over to the long distance radio and switched it on. "Sarge, come in. Sarge, do you read?"

But he only got static in response.

"Ah, dammit," he sighed. "Hey Lopez!"

"Si?" Lopez called from behind a boulder.

"Is the radio busted?"

Lopez sighed and stepped out from behind the rock. "Cómo será que nadie… quiere nunca hablar conmigo sobre todo lo demás?" (Busted radio… how come no one ever wants to talk to me about anything else?)

Simmons didn't understand so he tried speaking slowly to him. "The radio… no work? Call Sarge-o… Yes or no?"

"Usted habla Inglés que lo hago." (You speak English worse than I do.) Lopez then replied equally slowly, "Sí. Radio. Bueno. Asno. Encima al suelo." (Yes. Radio. Good. Butt. Up yours.)

"Then… how come… I can't… get… Sarge?"

"Su radio se revienta. Piensa, Einsteino." (Maybe their radio is busted, Einstein.)

"Can… you… fix… it?"

"Puedo fijar su radio, de aquí?" (Can I fix their radio from here?) Lopez rolled his eyes and replied sarcastically, "Sí. Porque soy mágico. Soy robostesa mágica." (Sure, because I am magic. I am a magical robot.)

Simmons let out a groan. "How come, in all these years of working with us, you haven't managed to learn one single word in English?"

"No sé," Lopez replied with a shrug. "Para evitar conversación tenga gusto de esto." (I don't know. Probably trying to avoid conversations like this.)

Meanwhile at Sandtrap, the brown soldier, who seemed to be in charge round here, gave Sarge, Caboose and Grif a quick rundown of the area while Smith followed behind. "Now I'm sure you've heard about the treaties between aliens and people. We're here to investigate an energy reading. Rules are now, if they find one of these things, all investigation teams have to have at least one person and one alien, no exception."

"What kind of energy reading?" Sarge asked.

"I can't tell you that," the soldier replied. "In fact, I need you to leave _this_ area A.S.A.P. The alien diplomats will get mighty suspicious if they find another human squad showed up. We don't want to cause an intergalactic incident."

"Oh, we're used to doing that," Caboose said.

The soldier glared at him but Sarge quickly put in, "Uh, what my friend means is we're, um, used to following protocol."

"Good," the soldier nodded. "Then you guys just head on your way and we don't need to report this to anybody."

"Dude, we're not going anywhere," Grif retorted. "Our jeep is wrecked." He jerked a thumb at the Warthog which had suddenly burst into flames.

"Damn," the soldier grunted. "Okay, we'll help you repair your jeep, and then you're gone. Couple of rules while you're here: This is a restricted dig site. Everything here is property of the military. _Do not go looking for any artifacts._ And do not go anywhere without telling me. Got it?"

"Yes Mom, we got it," Grif muttered.

"Okay, quick quiz then," the soldier said. "What are you gonna do if you find an artifact?"

"Not take it," Caboose replied.

"No, that was a trick question. You're not going to _find_ an artifact because you're not going to be _looking_ for an artifact."

Caboose folded his arms crossly. "Maybe I knew it was a trick question, so I gave you a trick answer."

"There are no trick answers," the soldier snapped. "There are only wrong answers. Are we clear?"

"Yes," Grif muttered.

"ARE WE CLEAR?"

"Yes!" they all answered.

"Okay," the soldier said more calmly. "Then head down there." He pointed to a small campsite under the shade of a collapsed pillar. "On the left, you'll find some wrecked jeeps you can scavenge for parts. There's also water down there on the left too. Keep yourselves hydrated. You want some chow; it's with the water on the left."

"Thanks," Sarge replied as he, Grif and Caboose made their way back to the wrecked Warthog. "And we'll be leaving as soon as we can."

"Yes, you will," the soldier said.

As they pushed the Warthog towards the campsite, Grif looked over to his leader. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Sarge?"

"Yeah," Sarge muttered. "Something just doesn't seem right."

"I know," Caboose grunted as he pushed. "Everything is on the left."

"Shut up, Caboose," Grif retorted.

Nearby, Smith watched them for a moment then he turned to the soldier and let out some low growls.

"No, I don't think they know anything," the soldier replied. "You get back to the temple. Keep working on getting it open. I'll take care of these idiots."

With a nod, Smith set off towards the spire, passing an area of the ruins that was full of the bodies of white-armored Spartans and aliens…

* * *

**Uh oh, that might be a problem for our guys.**


	12. Dumb Cop, Bad Cop

**Our last episode upped the tension a bit, so here comes the breaking point.**

* * *

Chapter 11: Dumb Cop, Bad Cop

Once they'd reached the campsite, the Reds and Caboose removed their helmets, placed them on the table on the right and took a quick drink of water. Then Sarge and Caboose began to scavenge the other jeeps for spare parts to repair the Warthog while Grif got on the long distance radio to try and contact the Red Base at Valhalla.

"Simmons, come in. Simmons, are you there or what?" But he only heard static so he switched it off with a sigh. "Okay, I give up. Something's wrong with the radio now too. I'll go check _their_ jeep."

Sarge meanwhile was staring at one of the excavation team's cars. "What the hell is wrong with this jeep anyway? It doesn't have a turret."

"Maybe it's just a car," Caboose replied.

"What does that mean?"

"You know, like a car. A regular car."

"What kind of car doesn't have a massive cannon on it?"

"Oh, all kinds of cars. Most kind of cars."

"That's ridiculous," Sarge scoffed. "That would be like saying there's some kind of thing you can wear on your head that's not armor-plated and doesn't offer a 5x optical zoom."

Caboose let out a sigh. "I think you've been in the military a really long time."

"Yep," Sarge agreed. "It's been a good run."

Grif climbed into the jeep and examined it for a bit. "Dammit, no radio here either?" He lifted the broken ends of some wires. "Someone's yanked it out. Why would they deliberately pull the radio out of their own jeep?"

"Let me take a look at it, Grif," Caboose offered.

"Why?" Grif asked puzzled. "You want to confirm that there's no radio?"

"Maybe I can fix it."

"How are you going to fix something that isn't even the- No, you know what fuck it, go for it whatever."

Grif climbed out of the jeep and made his way over to his leader. "Sarge, this place gives me the creeps. Something's really wrong here. I mean, why would they deliberately pull the radio out of their own jeep, and why can't I get a signal on long range?"

"Something does seem out of place," Sarge agreed, rubbing his chin in thought. "But maybe we're overreacting. Maybe they're just using the parts from this radio to fix the others."

"And we just happen to only find all the ones that are broken? That seems unlikely."

"Hmm, maybe they have one enormous radio somewhere that requires a ton of parts, like one the size of a house."

"Once again, unlikely. Wait a second…" Grif looked round until he spotted the Elephant. "What about that thing, the big freighter? It looks like a mobile base. Maybe _it_ has a radio."

Meanwhile, Caboose held the Epsilon unit next to the jeep in the hopes that this would help him out. "Sheila, is that you?" he hissed. "Are you there? Uh… Delta? Tex?"

"Hey, what are you up to over there?" Sarge called out.

"Nothing," Caboose yelped, dropping the unit into the sand. "I'm up to nothing."

"What is that?" Sarge asked as he stepped closer. "What are you doing?"

Just then, Grif spotted the brown head soldier approaching them. "Uh oh, here comes-"

"Caboose, stop messing with their jeep," Sarge scolded.

"I'm not doing anything!" Caboose shouted. "Just ignore me!"

Sarge frowned. "If you're not doing anything, then what would we be ignoring?"

"Ignore what I'm not doing," Caboose replied.

At the Red Base in Valhalla, Lopez finished his newest project then called out, "OK Simmons. Se hacen sus motocicletas." (Ok, Simmons. our motorcycles are ready.)

Simmons came round and gasped in amazement when he saw the two gleaming new vehicles parked on the ramp. "Wow, Lopez, that's great. You made motorcycles? Thanks."

Lopez nodded in satisfaction. "Ahora usted puede alcanzar a Sarge y le dice sobre ese unidad del AI." (Now you can catch up to Sarge and tell him about that AI unit.)

Simmons beamed in anticipation. "Now I can catch up to Sarge and tell him about that AI unit."

Lopez scowled. "Usted está imitando?" (Are you mocking me?)

"All right, I'll be back as soon as I can," Simmons said. "Come on, Donut!" But there was no answer. "Hey, Lopez, did you see where Donut went?"

"No," Lopez replied, shaking his head. (No.)

"I bet he's over at Blue Base again. I'll go get him." Simmons let out a sigh. "Man, why do I have to do everything around here?"

"Usted?" Lopez cried. "Acabo de construir dos motocicletas." (You? I'm the one who's just built two motorcycles.)

"Yeah, I know, Lopez," Simmons muttered. "I guess I'm just naturally responsible and people take advantage of that. It's a curse really." With that, he leapt onto one of the bikes and started the engine. "I'll go grab Donut and bring him back for his motorcycle."

"No. Ninguna motocicleta para él. No Donut," Lopez yelled. (No, that's not for Donut.)

"No, that's not for Donut?" Simmons repeated. "Then why'd you build a second one?"

"Eso es un repuesto," Lopez explained. "Sé mejor construiros siempre dos vehículos." That's a spare. If there's anything I've learned about working with you idiots, it's 'always build two vehicles'.)

"Uh-huh, I don't even understand," Simmons muttered. "Okay, whatever Lopez, see you soon!"

With that, he revved the engine, drove the bike off the ramp… and immediately crashed it into a tree. With a sigh, he got off the bike and ran back up the ramp. "Hey, um, I'm just gonna take this other motorcycle."

"Las llaves están en la ignición," Lopez groaned, rolling his eyes. (The keys are in the ignition.)

Back at Sandtrap, Sarge turned to Grif and Caboose as the soldier arrived. "Okay, let's see what we can find out. You guys follow my lead."

"Hey, what's going on down here?" the soldier asked as he arrived.

"I said nothing," Caboose hissed.

Sarge coughed loudly. "We're just down here scavenging for parts like you said."

"Okay," the soldier replied. "Well, hurry it up."

"You realize we're not gonna fix this in like the next ten minutes, right?" Grif pointed out.

"Yeah, just the sooner the better."

"Why?" Sarge asked, raising an eyebrow. "What's going on around here?"

"I can't tell you that."

"You can't tell us, or you don't _want_ to tell us?"

"I can't tell you which is convenient because I don't want to tell you."

"Why don't you want to tell us?" Grif inquired.

"Because it's secret!"

"Regular secret or _top_ secret?" Sarge asked.

"_Top_ secret!"

"Dammit, the worst kind," Sarge scowled.

"Well, why is it so secretive?" Grif then asked.

"I can't tell you because that information is classified."

"Classified as what?" Sarge wondered.

"Classified as something I can't tell you," the soldier yelled, losing his patience. "Now _stop fishing for information!_"

Grif frowned in puzzlement. "What information do you think we're fishing for?"

"Okay, that wasn't even a good attempt."

"Yeah, I gotta agree with that."

The soldier took a breath to calm down. "Look, I'm sure you're curious. We're curious about you as well. All you need to know is what you can plainly see." He pointed towards the spire poking out of the sand dune. "We're trying to uncover that structure to… recover something. That's already more than you need to know!"

Grif nodded slowly. "Do you have a name?"

"You can call me C.T.," the soldier said.

"Got a rank there, C.T.?" Sarge asked.

"Not one _you_ would recognize, now let's-" C.T. then stopped as he looked towards his jeep. "Hey, where's your other guy?"

"Uh, what guy?" Sarge asked.

"The other guy."

"He's right there." Sarge pointed to Grif.

"The _other_, other guy!"

"He's right…" Grif turned round to point to Caboose, only to discover that he had disappeared. "…there?"

"THAT'S IT!" C.T. bellowed. "You're either here to investigate, or you're complete idiots! Either way, I've had it."

Grif looked confused. "Investigate?"

C.T. just growled then he took out his machinegun and pointed at Grif before looking over at Sarge. "Tell me where the blue guy went, or I'll shoot the orange one."

But Sarge just folded his arms and said nothing.

"WELL!?" C.T. snapped.

"Dude, I can save you some time," Grif put in. "You just picked the wrong guy to threaten. It'll make sense when you get to know us."

Suddenly a loud siren began to blare out behind them and C.T. looked round to see Smith leading a charge of aliens and soldiers towards the Elephant. "That's him, isn't it?"

"Probably," Grif sighed.

C.T. pointed his gun at both of them. "Move! Up the hill!"

* * *

**Oh Caboose, that's another fine mess you've got them into.**


	13. Well Hello

**Get ready because some old friends are about to make a comeback.**

* * *

Chapter 12: Well Hello

Inside the Blue Base at Valhalla, Donut hummed a little tune as he began to sort out the junk that Caboose had left in the passage. "Man, Caboose sure can make a mess for just one person," he murmured, storing some wires in a nearby box. "Although I guess he was trying to make another person, which technically would make this a mess for two people."

As he gathered up some small parts to put in another room, he let out a sigh. "I think Caboose would be a great dad. I wonder if I should have a kid. I never really thought I wanted one. But as I get older, I start to think something is missing."

He sighed again as he put the components into a closet. "Aw, I hope I didn't wait too long. I've been so focused on my career and having a good time, maybe it's too late for me!" Then he frowned. "Oh great, now I sound like my mother!"

Suddenly, he got the feeling that he wasn't alone and slowly turned round. There, stepping out of the shadows was a soldier wearing white armor with brown shoulder pads and a wide-visored helmet, and carrying a huge gun ending in a blade on its back and a pistol in his hand.

"Oh, hi there," Donut smiled. "You scared me. I didn't know anyone was over here at Blue Base."

The figure didn't reply, but instead let out a low hiss.

"Strong silent type, huh? That's cool," Donut said. "Don't mind me; I'm just keeping the base a little tidy. A clean base is a deadly base, that's what Sarge always says. Sarge is our commander. You'll get a Sarge over here I'm sure, but he won't be like our Sarge; he'll be Blue!"

The soldier just growled slightly.

"Man, the rest of our guys will be so happy to have someone to fight," Donut chuckled. "They're gonna be so relieved to see you! What did you say your name was?"

The soldier narrowed his eyes and growled again.

"Hmm, foreign, huh? Love the accent, it really works for you." Donut stepped forwards but his foot hit a large piece of metal. "I should probably move this." He bent down to shift it and thus missed the bullet that the figure shot from his pistol. "Aw, don't worry buddy, I already checked their weapons. They're all good, but thanks for helping!"

The soldier growled in irritation as he put his pistol away and took out his brute shot.

Donut turned his attention on Tex's body and tried in vain to push it aside. "Oof, this thing's heavy! Maybe if I grab the legs…" He moved to one side just as the soldier swung his blade forward, knocking the body aside. "Well, that was helpful, thanks!" Donut cried as he looked round. "Where'd you get that kickass broom?"

The soldier stepped forward with a hiss but then Donut heard the sound of an engine coming from outside. "Uh… do you hear that?"

Outside, Simmons slowed the bike down and called out, "Hey, Donut, are you in there? Lopez built you a motorcycle!" Just then, the bike stalled and smoke emitted from the engine. "It's broken."

"Hey!" Donut responded. "Yeah Simmons, I'm inside the Blue Base. Guess what? Blue Team got a new soldier!"

"What? They sent another member?" Simmons frowned as he dismounted the bike and stepped into the base. "Why would they do that? That doesn't make any sense."

He made his way into the passage and saw Donut. Then he looked round and recoiled in horror as he saw that standing behind Donut, holding a brute shot in his hands… was THE META!

"OH FUCK!" he yelped before turning and running back the way he'd come. "Welcome to the neighborhood, see you later!"

With a loud roar, the Meta set off in pursuit.

Meanwhile at Sandtrap, Sarge and Grif marched up the sand dune, their hands behind their heads as C.T. escorted them to the Elephant. "Come on, move!"

"All right already, we're moving," Grif retorted. "Don't boss me!"

They reached the freighter to find Caboose in the grip of two aliens and some soldiers pointing their guns at him.

"Hey, what's going on up here?" C.T. asked.

Smith stepped forward and gave a few angry growls, pointing at Caboose.

"Sabotaging the digger, huh? I knew it!" C.T. snapped. "Who sent you here? What do they know about us?"

"Dammit, Caboose!" Sarge yelled. "Why do you keep messing with the vehicles?"

"Oh, yeah," Caboose muttered. "I was just trying to find a home for Epsilon, no biggie."

"What?" C.T. then noticed the unit lying at Caboose's feet. "What is that thing?"

Suddenly the ground began to shake as a loud rumbling built up. With a roar of horror, Smith pointed towards the spire and everyone turned round to see a huge ornate slab rising up into the building.

"Shit, he's opening the temple!" C.T. gasped. "Dammit! Are you with him?"

"With who?" Grif asked.

"Aw crap!" C.T. turned to his teammates. "Get down there! Kill him if you have to and don't let that door close again no matter what happens!"

At once, the soldiers and aliens let go of Caboose and ran towards the temple, guns blazing.

"Hurry, let's move!" Sarge yelled.

"Let's get the fuck out of here!" Grif shouted, dashing off after his leader.

Caboose loaded Epsilon back into its harness and ran off after them.

As the soldiers and aliens charged forward, a grenade was flung at them, taking out an alien.

"Shit!" C.T. yelled, ducking for the cover of the campsite. "Smith, turret!"

With a loud roar, Smith bounded up the fallen pillar towards a mounted machinegun and pointed it towards the temple.

"Over there!" C.T. ordered his troops.

But while they were distracted, Grif ran into the Elephant, hurried to the cockpit and pounded at the controls. "Ha haa, see ya, suckers!" he gloated as the freighter began to move. "You just got _yoinked!_"

Quickly Smith opened fire at the freighter as it trundled across the desert at the speed of a tortoise.

"How the fuck do you drive this thing?" Grif yelled. "Why are there only four levers if there are six directions? Where the fuck is second gear?"

Outside, Sarge ran alongside the Elephant, quickly overtaking it. "Grif, if you need to run away in the middle of battle, at least have the decency to drive faster than I can run!"

"Is the emergency brake on? I can't see-" Grif broke off with a sigh and ditched the cockpit. "Man, fuck this, this is stupid!"

Meanwhile, C.T.'s troops drew closer to the temple, still firing their guns.

"Get down!" one soldier yelled.

Several ducked for cover, but one soldier was taken out by a bluish blur that ran past him.

A soldier on a Mongoose drove into the fray but a grenade went off by his tire and he crashed into a nearby wall. "Ah, fuck!" He quickly jumped out and ran for it, only to get taken out by another grenade.

Smith opened fire on the blur but yet another grenade hit the turret and he was sent flying back down into the sand.

"Cover me!" C.T. yelled, running back to the Elephant. "Fall back!"

As the remaining soldiers and aliens ran after their leader, Sarge, Grif and Caboose ran the other direction, covering their unprotected heads with their arms, but they stopped at the edge of a dune when they saw a Spartan-II blocking their way, a Spartan wearing teal-colored armor and wielding a glowing energy sword. "Hey guys, run for the temple!" he called out. "I'll cover you, hurry!"

"Oh… my…" Caboose gasped. "Tucker! Is that you?!"

"Yeah, of course it's me!" Tucker yelled. "Now move!"

But they didn't move. Caboose just smiled at his teammate. "So… where have you been?"

"What is this, some kind of fucking reunion?" Tucker snapped as a grenade exploded behind him. "Move your asses, idiots! I'll meet you over there!" And with that, he turned and ran towards the temple.

"What in Sam Hell was all that?" Sarge asked.

"Who cares?" Grif yelled as they ran after Tucker. "Just move!"

* * *

**Now that's what I call a reunion under fire! Bow chicka bow wow!**


	14. Called Up

**It's time once again for some exposition.**

* * *

Chapter 13: Called Up

At the UNSC Maximum Security Detention Facility, Malcolm Hargrove, the Chairman of the Oversight Sub-committee, watched on his screen as Washington glared up at the monitor. "I'm sorry, but do we know each other?"

Malcolm glanced at the former Agent's records on his computer. "You are Special Agent Washington, former member of Project Freelancer, also known by the designation Recovery One."

"Also known as Prisoner 619-B," Wash added crossly.

"Convicted of three counts of dereliction of duty, eight counts of conspiracy to commit treason, and my personal favorite, seven counts of destruction of protected, classified military property."

Wash raised an eyebrow. "And you are…?"

"I am someone extremely disappointed by the destruction of said property," Malcolm retorted. "That is all you need to know."

In the interrogation room, Wash sat down on the chair and looked up at the monitor. "I want to make a deal. I have information that you want."

"All the information that _I_ want was lost in the destruction of Project Freelancer."

"Not all of it."

"Agent Washington, if you knew anything that could have kept you out of prison, I am sure it would have come to light during your trial. So if you're quite through with wasting my time, we will-"

"I know you're missing the Epsilon unit," Wash interrupted. "And I know where to find it."

Malcolm was silent for a moment. "You have my attention."

"It disappeared after the events at Freelancer Command," Wash recalled. "You searched _everyone_ associated with the program, even the Red Team troopers you found."

"Yes, the ones who were found bickering around the stolen jeep."

"There was another group of soldiers, a Blue squad. _They_ escaped with Epsilon."

Malcolm checked his computer but no information on the Blues appeared. "I show no record of these soldiers."

"And you won't," Wash agreed. "But I know where to find them. So here's the deal: I give you that missing module, you get me out of here. I get a clear slate, and we forget we ever knew each other."

Malcolm thought it over then he replied, "That sounds fair."

Wash got up from the chair. "I'm gonna need some equipment; invisibility, over-shields, anything left over from Freelancer."

At his computer, Malcolm let out a grin. "I think we can point you in the right direction."

At that very moment, at Valhalla, someone else was already hard at work at finding the Epsilon unit.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Simmons screamed as he pelted across the valley, jumping aside to avoid the motorcycle hurled at him and ducking to avoid the bullets being fired at him as the Meta set off in hot pursuit.

Meanwhile at Sandtrap, Tucker led the Reds and Caboose up towards the temple as C.T.'s units opened fire at them.

"Guys, hold them off," he ordered. "I'll get the door!"

While the Reds opened fire on the enemy, Tucker ran over to a holographic lock, thrust the sword in and gave it a twist. With a loud creaking roar, the door began to slide shut and Grif, Sarge and Caboose ducked inside, seconds before it closed.

"There!" Tucker sighed in relief.

Now they were out of danger, Caboose ran up and grabbed his teal teammate in a big hug. "Tucker!"

"Hey, Caboose," Tucker chuckled, hugging him back with his free hand.

"Oh, hey look, it's that guy," Grif muttered.

At this, Tucker spun round and pointed his sword at the Reds. "You brought these guys? Are we killing each other today, or pretending to work together?"

"Uh, the pretending version," Caboose replied.

"Oh, okay, cool." Tucker switched off his sword and placed it onto his belt. Then he took off his helmet, revealing the face of a young dark-skinned man with black hair and a pair of spectacles over his brown eyes, and wiped the sweat off his brow. "Hey dudes, what's up? How'd y'all find me?"

"We got that radio call you sent," Sarge replied.

"The distress signal? And they sent you assholes? That was to help me! I wanted less distress, not more distress."

"Uh, actually we kind of ignored that call at first," Grif admitted.

"That makes sense."

"Then Donut showed up and told us you were in trouble."

Tucker folded his arms and scowled. "Oh, I get it. So, me making an emergency call, not a big deal… Donut telling you some dumb homo story, red alert!"

"Pretty much," Sarge replied.

"So where's everyone else?"

"What do you mean?" Caboose asked.

"The rest of the people who are gonna help fight these fuckers off…"

Grif, Sarge and Caboose glanced at each other for a moment then Tucker sighed. "You didn't bring any more soldiers, did you?"

"Oh um, that depends," Caboose muttered. "Um, by other soldiers, do you mean people… _other_ than us?"

"Yes I do."

"Then no."

"Hey, Red guys, could you at least call your other guys over?"

"We can't," Grif cried. "Their radios have been tampered with, and we left our helmets outside."

"Well, that's just fucking perfect!"

"What's going on here?" Sarge demanded.

"Uh, it's kind of hard to explain," Tucker confessed, running a hand through his short black hair. "They think there's some kind of artifact here, some massive weapon built a long time ago."

"An old weapon," Caboose repeated. "Like a spear?"

"No, not a spear, it's more like some kind of super energy electric thing."

"An electric spear."

"It's not a spear, dumbass!"

"Hmm, I think I've read about these," Sarge recalled in thought. "They found some back during the War."

"Yeah," Tucker confirmed. "Well, all the aliens are into them and so are all the humans now. So me and Junior have to go around sometimes and help… negotiate stuff. You know, smooth talk."

"Why you?" Grif asked.

"We're like the ambassadors here or something. Humans and aliens seem more comfortable with us, since we're kind of… you know, in between."

"In between aliens and humans, huh?" Caboose asked slyly. "You mean in between two alien and human… _ladies?_"

"Come on, dude, seriously?" Tucker sighed. "You're not gonna get me to say it with that lame-ass joke. I'm not that easy."

Caboose just raised his eyebrows at him.

"Okay, well maybe I am that easy, bow-chicka-bow-wow. See, now that's a set-up."

Caboose just chuckled. "Yeah, I hope one day you will tell me what you're going to do in between the two ladies."

"So are you part of the group that C.T. told us about?" Sarge asked.

"That asshole? He's a fucking liar," Tucker growled. "He and his team killed the guys originally sent to dig this thing up then they tried to kill me."

"Oh no," Caboose gasped. "Well, I hope you stop them."

"I locked myself in this temple. I figured it would keep me safe and keep them away from the relic."

"So who are they?" Grif asked curiously.

"I don't have any idea, dude. They're probably trying to steal the artifact then sell it to the highest bidder."

"Oh, they're like evil eBay," Caboose said.

"You're an idiot." Tucker sighed and wiped his glasses clean with his gloved fingers. "Look guys, thanks for the fucked-up rescue mission and all that, but where's Church?"

"Oh, um," Caboose murmured. "He's dead."

"Yeah, I know that. Church has been dead for years, it never stopped him before."

"Oh yeah, we also found out that he's _not_ a ghost and that he's an AI computer program, like Sheila."

Tucker's face fell slightly and when he next spoke, his voice seemed higher in pitch. "Yeah, I knew that."

"You did?" Grif cried.

"Yeah, you guys didn't?" Tucker cleared his throat. "Pay good attention, what the fuck are you guys paying attention to?"

"Oh, uh, I have my suspicions," Grif muttered.

"Of course, I just didn't want to tell anybody," Sarge added.

"I still want to know what Tucker's going to do between the two ladies," Caboose giggled.

"Look guys, I need your help," Tucker said. "We either need to chase these guys off or destroy this facility… or pick up some chicks, old habits die hard."

"But why destroy it?" Sarge asked.

"Orders," Tucker explained. "We can't let it fall into anyone else's hands. Plus, breaking stuff is fucking awesome."

"This thing is that powerful?" Grif asked.

"Hell yeah! First they built these rings that were a huge weapon, then we found this super powerful cube-shaped weapon, and I guess this is the pyramid version."

"Wow, that ancient race sure built a lot of weapons."

"I know."

"I mean, did they really need to spend all their time building stuff to destroy the Universe? Like, how about the galaxy's biggest movie theatre, or like some kind of super advanced water park? All work and no play guys, seriously."

"No play," Tucker muttered. "Tell me about it."

* * *

**Personally, I like the idea of a super advanced water park. Come on, ET, get to work on that! Make space exploration cool!**


	15. The Installation

**After that quick break, let's get back to the action.**

* * *

Chapter 14: The Installation

Outside the temple, C.T. got his men to bring the Elephant up the door and ordered them to use it like a battering ram to smash it open. The soldier at the wheel thrust the gearstick forward and the freighter rolled forward and slammed into the door with all its might, but the door still held.

Inside, the Reds and Caboose looked up as the walls began to shake. "What the hell are they doing out there?" Grif cried.

"They've been trying to blast their way in here ever since I locked it down," Tucker explained. "They're not having much luck though, ARE YOU, FUCKING ASSHOLES!" he yelled at the door. "The stuff looks like rock, but it's way tougher."

"What's tougher than rock?" Grif asked.

"Paper," Caboose replied.

"How the fuck should I know?" Tucker snapped. "Super rock? What am I, some kind of geographist?"

"They have some kind of big machine out there," Sarge told him.

"Yeah, they just got that thing. I think _they_ think they're gonna hit this door off with it… not fuckin' happening."

"They wanna get their hands on that weapon?"

"Yeah, and we can't let 'em turn it on, no matter what happens."

"Well, why don't _we_ just turn it on and use it against them?"

"Whoa, what?" Tucker cried. "We don't know what it does! We could turn it on and it could make us sterile."

"Would it do that?" Grif asked.

"Well, the last weapon we found was designed to wipe out all organic life in a huge radius."

Grif let out a long whistle of amazement. "Wow… What's a radius?"

"I don't know," Tucker muttered. "They just made me learn this crap for my dumb job. Point is, don't touch anything. You hit the wrong button or flip the wrong switch, we'll all be dead before you can say- Where's Caboose?"

"Uh, I don't think that's how that expression goes," Sarge said.

"No, I mean where the fuck is Caboose?"

Sarge and Grif turned round to find that Caboose had disappeared… again.

"Oh yeah," Sarge sighed. "He does have a habit of wandering off. He's been trying to rig equipment to do something. We don't really know what. That boy is not quite right, you know."

"What?" Tucker shouted. "I just said not to touch anything, and you guys let him walk away to find equipment? What the hell is wrong with you? Man, I swear, you guys have always been idiots, but this takes the cake!"

"Hey, he's on _your_ team, asshole!" Grif snapped.

"Oh right…" Tucker put his helmet back on to hide his embarressed face. "Hey, uh, so if you guys aren't doing anything, you wanna help me go find Caboose?"

Sarge nodded. "Let's go."

As they set off into the temple, Grif just shook his head at Tucker and muttered, "So embarrassing for you…"

"Just go find the guy," Tucker retorted.

"So sad," Grif added.

"I fucked your sister," Tucker countered.

Meanwhile at the Red Base at Valhalla, Lopez hummed to himself as he finished the repairs on the first motorcycle, hoping that Simmons would treat this better. Just then, he heard a voice calling out, "LOOOOOOPEEEEEEZZZZ!"

He looked up and saw Simmons running straight towards him. "No!" he yelled, jumping protectively in front of the bike. "Acabo de fijar esto. Ésta es el mío." (No! I just fixed this. This one is mine. Stay away!)

"He's here!" Simmons yelped as he approached. "He's here!"

"Quién?" (Who?)

"The bad guy!" Simmons panted in terror. "The guy who wants to kill us!"

Lopez folded his arms. "Me necesito ser más específico que ése." (You're going to have to be more specific than that.)

"The Meta!" Simmons yelled. "He's here!"

"Qué? Aquí?" Lopez gasped. "Pensé que el es muerto." (What? Here? I thought he was dead.)

Simmons then looked round and his eyes widened. "Oh geez, look out!"

He pushed Lopez down just before a rocket zoomed over their heads. Simmons then turned and gasped as he spotted the Meta cresting the hill. "Son of a bitch!"

"Madre de Dios!" Lopez cried.

"Lopez, we need some big guns!" Simmons ordered.

"OK. Ve que pueda hacer," Lopez replied, running into the base. (Ok. That I can do.)

"I'll grab the rocket launcher," Simmons yelled, pulling one out of a nearby crate. "Just grab whatever you can, Lopez! I'm trained to handle this weapon." He turned round to look for the Meta and spotted him coming up the other side of the base. "Lopez? Anybody?"

With a growl, the Meta stopped by the motorcycle and raised his brute shot at Simmons who swallowed his fear and hefted the rocket launcher. "All right you bastard, prepare to get Simmonsized!"

With that, he pressed the trigger and a rocket shot out towards the Meta… but it just hit the motorcycle and sent it flying over the rogue Freelancer's head before smashing into the cliff face. With a hiss, the Meta turned his attention back to Simmons.

"Well, fuck me," Simmons dropped the launcher and closed his eyes, preparing himself for the end.

The Meta raised his gun again… but then a missile shot out from the base's entrance and slammed into his side, sending him flying off the ramp and crashing down into the lake.

Cautiously, Simmons opened one eye and looked up to see Lopez coming out of the base, carrying a missile pod. "Usted dijo 'Simmonsized'?" (Did you seriously just say 'Simmonsized'?)

"Lopez!" Simmons cried out in joy.

"Cierre la cogida," Lopez snapped. "Usted rompió motocicleta." (Shut the fuck up. You broke my motorcycle again.)

Back in the temple, Caboose entered a huge chamber and removed the Epsilon unit from its harness. He could felt it humming loudly and he saw a flashing light in the front. He glanced around the room for a bit until he spotted a box. He approached it and placed Epsilon by its side but nothing happened. "No…"

He then looked round and spotted a cylindrical object lying nearby. But when he placed Epsilon by it, there was still no change. "No…"

He took a few steps away but then he felt the humming grow louder and saw the light flash brighter. He looked around quickly and then spotted something at his feet, half-buried in the sand. "Hmmm…." He knelt down, placed Epsilon next to him and began to dig it out.

Elsewhere in the temple, Tucker, Sarge and Grif wandered down the passageways looking for Caboose. Just then, C.T.'s voice called out from outside. "Just open the temple and you can leave. We'll take what we want; no one has to get hurt."

"Shut up, idiot!" Tucker yelled back. "I should have stabbed that fucking speaker while I was out there."

"Caboose!" Grif called out.

"Caboose, where are you?" Tucker shouted.

"Hey, Blue, hope you're not dead!" Sarge called. "Now that there's two of ya, we finally have a fair fight! Come on out here so we can kill ya!"

Tucker then held up a hand as they approached an entryway. "Hey guys, shut up. Do you hear that?"

Sarge and Grif listened carefully and then they heard Caboose's voice coming from within the room. "Would you be quiet? See, you're gonna get me in trouble."

Then a second voice cried out, "Trouble? Fuck that."

"Who's he talking to?" Tucker then gasped. "Aw crap, did somebody break into the temple?"

"Shut up!" Caboose hissed then there was a clatter and the sound of something smashing. "Okay, see, _you_ broke that. See, that was your fault."

"Uh, that was already broken," the other voice muttered.

Tucker drew out his sword and switched it on, making a whooshing noise as he did. "All right, let's charge in there and take these assholes out. On my mark… That means when I say 'go!'"

Grif raised his rifle but then he frowned. "That voice sounds familiar."

"Yeah," Sarge agreed, taking out his shotgun. "I find it annoying and grating for some reason."

"Okay, just stop moving around," Caboose yelled. "Hold still."

"I _am_ holding still," the voice retorted. "You're the one that's moving."

Tucker's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, that sounds like-"

"Get your hands off me," the voice snapped. "Fuck it!"

"Oh, sorry Church," Caboose muttered.

Tucker, Grif and Sarge swapped incredulous looks. "CHURCH?!" Quickly they ran into the room, weapons drawn, but they let them clutter to the ground when they saw the scene before them.

Caboose was standing in the middle of the room next to a piece of broken equipment, looking very embarrassed, and there, floating next to him was a strange round monitor with a glowing sapphire-blue light in the middle. "I can explain…"

The monitor regarded the others with its light and lowered its upper panel in a frown before turning to Caboose and asking in Church's voice, "Who the fuck are these guys?"

Sarge stared back in silence before he spoke. "Who brought the floating bowling ball? Where's the thumbhole?"

* * *

**My word, it looks like we just got Church back… sort of.**


	16. Watch the Flank

**We're heading back into the eye of the action storm!**

* * *

Chapter 15: Watch the Flank

At Valhalla, Simmons and Lopez used the advantage they had gained on the Meta to run back into the base and quickly barricaded the entrance with crates so he couldn't get in.

"Keep watching your motion tracker," Simmons ordered, shoving another crate onto the pile. "These guys can turn invisible."

"Es eso donde él fue?" Lopez asked. (Is that where he went?)

Outside, the water rippled as the invisible Meta stalked out of the lake but then he suddenly shifted into view again before disappearing and then reappearing once more. With an angry roar, he ran off into the valley.

In the Base, Simmons flinched as he heard the Meta. "Whoa, did you hear that?"

Lopez then looked up in alarm. "Tengo algo en mi perseguidor de movimiento." (I have something on my motion tracker.)

"Yeah, it was loud," Simmons whimpered.

"No, Usted idiota! Allá!" Lopez pointed down the passage. (No, you idiot! Over there!)

Simmons looked round and he heard footsteps ringing out from round the corner. Quickly he and Lopez whipped out their assault rifles and pointed them out. With a glance at each other, they reloaded in perfect synchrony and then prepared themselves as a figure stepped round the corner…

"Hey guys, 'sup!" Donut called out.

Simmons lowered his gun in amazement. "Donut?"

But Lopez kept his rifle trained. "Usted no dijo a este individuo para cambiar color?" (Didn't you say this guy could change color?)

"I just finished cleaning up Blue Base," Donut said. "What's going on over here?"

"Pienso que debemos tirarlo apenas para ser seguros," Lopez suggested. (I think we should shoot him just to be safe.)

Simmons held his hand up to Lopez and stepped forward. "Donut, that guy attacked me!" he yelled. "I ran out of the base screaming. Why didn't you help me?"

Donut shrugged. "You guys seemed like you knew each other. I thought you were just catching up."

"He was firing grenades at me!"

"Yeah, so, I thought it was an inside joke between the two of you."

"What?" Simmons snapped. "What kind of joke would that be?"

"Well, how would I know?" Donut retorted. "I've been gone a long time, Simmons."

"What!?"

"In fact," Donut added, folding his arms, "it was clear that I didn't know the guy, so shame on you for not introducing us. And quite frankly, I found the whole thing a bit rude!"

Simmons' jaw dropped so far it bounced off the bottom of his helmet and just kept going straight through till it reached his boots. "WHAAAAAAAAT!?"

"Rude," Donut repeated, turning away.

"Seriamente, podría apenas tirar del respirador ahora," Lopez said. (Seriously, we could just bury him out back. We wouldn't even have to tell anybody.)

Inside the temple at Sandtrap, Tucker pulled off his helmet and stared at the monitor for a moment then he turned to Caboose. "Church?" he asked. "You're telling me _that_ thing is Church?"

"Well, not exactly," Caboose admitted, rubbing the back of his head. "See, um, technically, uh, this thing is, uh, just a memory of Church. Um, his name is Epsilon."

"Epsi-whatsawhat?" Tucker asked puzzled.

"Me, dipshit!" the monitor retorted.

"Uh yeah," Caboose agreed. "See, he's a resident memory of the guy that Church was based on, so he's kind of like, remembering himself. Yeah, Simmons can explain, yeah, much better than I can, probably."

"Sounds like I have another reason to be glad Simmons isn't here," Grif muttered.

"Wait, I thought he was Simmons?" Epsilon asked, nodding at Sarge.

**(A.N: I know everyone keeps calling him Church, but he's mainly based on the AI Epsilon, so I'm gonna keep calling him Epsilon.)**

"He's Sarge," Caboose said slowly. "Sa-a-arrrr-ggggg-eee."

"I'm confused, not deaf, you idiot!" Epsilon retorted. "Now who's the yellow one?"

"I'm not yellow, I'm orange!" Grif snapped.

"Yeah, then how'd you know who I was talking about?"

Tucker scratched his head in confusion. "How come he remembers us, but not who we are?"

"Why does everyone think I'm yellow?" Grif scowled. "Seriously, didn't anybody have a box of crayons when they were a kid?"

"Oh, it will come back to him," Caboose reassured. "See, I've been telling him stories, about all of us… well, most of us," he added with a glance at Tucker.

Sarge then noticed the open storage unit by Caboose's feet. "Is that what you've been trying to do all this time, rebuild your buddy?"

"Yes… no… maybe…" Caboose thought it over. "Which will make you less mad?"

"So the only stuff he knows about us is what _you_ told him?" Tucker let out a grimace. "That's scary on a lot of levels, dude."

"Why?" Epsilon asked.

"Oh, why?" Tucker scoffed. "Okay, quick quiz: Who am I?"

Epsilon stared at him for a moment. "You're… Captain Flowers, right? You're dead." He frowned and turned to Caboose. "I've been meaning to ask you about that part. Is he like a zombie?"

"Uh-huh, and who is he?" Tucker pointed at Grif.

Epsilon looked round again. "He's Grif, which is spelled with two F's."

"God Dammit!" Grif yelled. "Okay, now that's _another_ thing!"

"Caboose was very specific about that second F," Epsilon insisted.

"Yeah…" Tucker then nodded at Sarge. "And what about the red guy?"

"Well, if he's not Simmons, then I guess he's Sarge," Epsilon replied. "That would make him the gruff and regimented leader of the Red Team."

Sarge beamed with pride. "That actually seems pretty-"

"Just give him one more second," Tucker cut in.

"Which would make him also the captain of their pirate ship," Epsilon finished.

"There it is," Tucker said smugly.

"I am a good storyteller," Caboose chuckled.

"How are you gonna tell stories?" Tucker cried baffled. "You can't even _read_ stories."

Caboose folded his arms. "I can read!"

Tucker rolled his eyes and turned to the Reds. "Caboose is the only guy I know of who had an illustrated field manual. He's a moron."

"Well, it helps when the stories have pictures, duh!"

"For the first two months I worked with him, he thought you held grenades over your head while they shot arrows at the enemy."

"That diagram could have been a lot more specific," Caboose admitted.

"Heh, you're lucky," Sarge snorted. "As a recruit, Grif didn't even know what a grenade was! I called it a pineapple, and he tried to swallow it."

"Yeah," Grif muttered, sticking his tongue out in disgust. "Well, it still tasted better than those MRE's you serve us."

"Grif, show some respect!" Sarge snapped. "Do you know how many men died to develop those meals?"

"I can tell you how many: everybody who ever tasted one!"

"At least _he_ doesn't kill everyone who suits up for your team," Tucker retorted.

"Oh yeah," Caboose cut in. "I don't think I really did that."

"Then who did?"

"Okay, stick with me on this, right? What if Church travelled back in time using Wyoming's special ability power-"

"Aw, shut up," Tucker interrupted. "That's fucking retarded."

"Argh, you guys are idiots!" Grif yelled.

"What?" Caboose cried. "What about you guys?"

"Who's the real idiot?" Sarge retorted. "The idiot, or the idiot who fights him?"

"What, dude?" Tucker shouted. "In either scenario, you're still an idiot."

"Huh, I _would_ expect _you_ to say something like that," Sarge huffed.

"Wait, I think he's right," Grif muttered.

"Shut up, Grif!" Sarge bellowed. "I always thought your armor was yellow too, it matches your personality!"

"Hey, you shouldn't be mean to people who work for you!" Caboose yelled. "He just wants to be your friend!"

"No one tries to do that but you!" Tucker shouted.

The rest of the arguments overlapped each other but the formula was clear: Tucker yelled at Caboose, Caboose yelled at Sarge, Sarge yelled at Grif and Grif yelled at everyone.

Epsilon watched the exchange of words and swears until he could take it no longer. He floated above them and yelled out at the top of his voice, "Everybody STOP!"

At once, Tucker, Grif and Sarge stopped arguing and turned round.

"I AM YELLING ABOUT THINGS!" Caboose yelled then he looked round. "Okay, I guess we're done now."

Epsilon looked at each and every one of them. "All right, listen guys, I might not remember everything right now, but it will come back to me, okay? I can feel it. But I do know this: if we don't work together and destroy this weapon, those guys outside are gonna kill a lot of people, and we can't let that happen. So just for a moment, let's set aside our differences and get to work solving this problem, together." At this point, he started floating sideways towards the entryway. "Being in charge is a tough task, but I'm a born leader. So if you follow me, I know I can get us through this. Are you with me?"

"Where are you going?" Grif asked.

"Uh, yeah," Epsilon muttered sheepishly. "I don't seem to have full control over my body yet. But that doesn't invalidate anything I said. I'm still the leader!" By then he had floated right out into the passageway. "Fuck! Okay, I'll be right back! No one else takes the leader position while I'm gone!"

"Okay, bye," Caboose said.

"Yeah, see ya later, Winston _Church_ill," Sarge scoffed.

* * *

**Oh, I get it. There was emphasis on Church because he's acting **_**like**_** Church. He-he-he-he, classic…**


	17. Retention Deficit

**The tension is slowly increasing as we get ready for the action.**

* * *

Chapter 16: Retention Deficit

In the Red Base at Valhalla, Simmons quickly gave Donut the rundown about how the Meta had almost killed them and how they managed to stop it the first time. Now they prepared themselves to face the rogue Freelancer.

Simmons checked the clip on his assault rifle. "I'm out."

"Me too," Donut said, shaking out the spent pistol rounds.

Lopez checked his rifle and shook his head sadly.

"Well, that's it," Simmons sighed. "I guess we're done then."

"Yeah…" Donut swallowed nervously. "Simmons, I have to say, I didn't think I would go out like this."

"Yeah, whatever, that's nice."

Donut frowned. "You're not curious how I _thought_ I would go out?"

"No, no, not in the least."

"How 'bout you; did you think you'd go out like this?"

"Underequipped and surrounded by people I hate? Yeah, that's pretty much how I pictured it since I got assigned to this unit. You see, I'm a realist."

Lopez bowed his head. "Pensé siempre con conseguir el sacado por mantenimiento pobre." (I always thought I would be taken out by poor maintenance.)

"Lopez is right," Simmons declared. "We need to think of something."

"Can we escape?" Donut asked hopefully.

"I don't see how," Simmons replied. "He's faster and stronger than us."

"Alguien hizo saltar todos nuestros vehículos," Lopez added, glaring at Simmons. (Plus, somebody blew up all our vehicles.)

"Good idea, Lopez!" Donut cried.

Simmons did a double-take. "You understood what he said?"

"Yeah," Donut replied. "High school Spanish, remember? He said the Meta must have gotten here someway."

Lopez looked puzzled. "Hice?" (I did?)

Donut nodded. "We just need to find his vehicle, and steal it!"

Simmons smiled. "That's a good idea, Lopez!"

"Es?" Lopez asked. "Ningún no es." (It is? No, it isn't.)

"Okay, let's think," Simmons said, rubbing his chin. "If you were a crazed lunatic, where would you hide a vehicle?"

"Él lo disimulo quizás," Lopez suggested. (Maybe he cloaked it, That's what I would do.)

"A garage is too obvious, Lopez," Donut argued. "We need to think of something crazier."

"Para el traducir para mí!" (Stop translating for me!)

"_Crazier!_"

"Eso no era incluso uno sugerencia!" (That wasn't even a suggestion!)

"Well, clearly Lopez is just having an off-day," Simmons decided. "So let's ignore him."

Lopez glowered at him. "Cojale los individuos." (Fuck you guys.)

Simmons ignored him as he went back to his thoughts. "So we're looking for some kind of vehicle, probably parked by Blue Base…"

"Si usted sepa que hay un vehículo!" (You're talking as if you know there is a vehicle!)

Donut then had a thought. "What if it only has two seats?"

"Hmm, I didn't think about that," Simmons admitted. "Hey Lopez, turn off your ears for a second."

"Qué?" Lopez asked. "No puedo hacer eso." (What? Why would I do that?)

"Okay, are they off?"

Lopez gave a suspicious frown. "Sí, están apagados. Ese es porque puedo contestarle." (Yes, they're off. That's why I can answer you.)

"Okay, good!" Simmons then took Donut aside and whispered, "If there's no room, we'll just leave Lopez. He's pretty much expendable, and they won't be able to get any info outta him anyway."

"I feel bad about it, though," Donut muttered. "He's been so loyal…"

"So what? He's a robot. He has to be loyal! Dogs are loyal too, but that doesn't mean you can't eat them when you're stranded in an arctic outpost and Command can't get rations through because of a seasonal blizzard."

Donut looked appalled. "That seems like a very specific example…"

"I don't want to talk about it," Simmons scowled. "Hey Lopez, you can turn your ears back on now."

Lopez, who'd actually heard the entire thing, resisted the urge to throttle Simmons. "Click. Oh, puedo oír otra vez. Un que milagro." (CLICK. Oh, I can hear again. What a fucking miracle.)

In the temple at Sandtrap, Epsilon was still having trouble controlling his new body as he floated through the corridors. "Whoa, halt, cease! Uh… abort dot move! Fuck!"

Behind him, Tucker and Caboose tried to catch up with him. "Church, wait!" Caboose called out.

"Wait?" Epsilon yelled, looking round. "I can't wait! I'm moving on my own… which I realize doesn't make sense when I say it out loud." He then looked down. "Hey look, I figured out how to stop!"

"Wow, you figured out how to not move?" Tucker said sarcastically. "You're a genius."

"Oh, check this out! I can go backwards too." Epsilon then reversed a few inches. "Zhooop!"

Tucker rolled his eyes. "Oh, well now you're just bragging."

"Well, it's important to _me_, asshole."

"I'm impressed," Caboose cried. "I can't go backwards!"

Epsilon glared at him. "Stop patronizing me."

"Well, he's definitely starting to remember _you,_" Tucker noted.

"I already know Caboose," Epsilon said. "He's the only guy that would talk to me while I was in storage."

"Are you remembering anything else?"

"I don't know. It's… fuzzy, for some reason. Maybe there's a file or some kind of database I can access here." Epsilon turned around and closed his eye. "Give me a second."

"Yeah, rooting around in your brain sounds like a great idea when you've barely figured out how to move on your own."

"Um, hey… Tucker?" Caboose hissed, moving him to the side. "Uh, yeah, Agent Washington told me that Church- I mean Epsilon is um… a little messed up."

"Yeah, I can see that," Tucker sighed.

"Yeah, no I mean he's got some, uh, memories that uh, he probably… _shouldn't_ access."

"What kind of memories?"

"Uh, yeah, see, some people did some bad stuff to him, and uh, he's kind of repressed, uh… a lot of, uh… stuff. Do you know what a repressed memory is?"

"Yeah, Caboose, I've repressed almost every moment I spent with you. I'm actually repressing this as we speak."

Caboose smiled. "Well thank you, that means a lot to me."

"Schematics… what the hell is 'schematic'? Let's see…" Epsilon turned back round with a mechanical sigh. "Man, there are a lot of functions in here. I can't figure out what a tenth of these even do!"

"Is '_nap_' a function?" Caboose asked. "Because that's my favorite… Oh, also 'eat ice cream'."

"That is so… stupid," Tucker muttered.

"Ah, you're right," Caboose agreed. "Technically that is a sub-routine of just plain 'eat'."

Just then, there was another loud boom from outside and the walls juddered, sending streams of dust trickling from the ceiling.

"I wish those guys would just _give up!_" Tucker sighed.

"Okay, here we go," Epsilon then said. "What does this do?"

With a click, he turned round to face a wall and Caboose and Tucker looked round to see a video being projected from the monitor's eye. It showed a picture of a Spartan walking down a passageway with a similar monitor by his side.

"What is this, some kind of training film?" Tucker asked.

"Yeah, I guess," Epsilon replied.

"I love movies," Caboose breathed. "Do you have Kramer vs. Kramer in there?"

Epsilon frowned as he watched the film. "It looks like it's teaching me how to interact with guys like-"

Suddenly on the image, the monitor shot out a red beam of light towards a running soldier, blasting a hole in his chest and killing him instantly.

"Whoa-ho-ho, holy shit!" Tucker cried out.

"Wow, I can do that!?" Epsilon gasped as the film ended. "I wanna do that, how do I do that?"

"Was that a laser?" Tucker said breathless. "That was fucking awesome!"

Epsilon nodded in agreement. "I gotta figure out how to do that!"

"No!" Tucker snapped. "I told you guys not to touch anything and now you're in some floating crap! Who know what that thing can do? Don't just go turning stuff on."

But Epsilon didn't hear him. "What's that? Maybe I'll try like…" He grunted, closed his eye again and spun in place until he was facing Tucker.

"Whoa, whoa!" Tucker yelped, ducking out off the way. "And definitely don't turn it on while you're looking at _me!_ That eye creeps me out anyway."

Epsilon frowned. "Well, maybe if I could just access my long-term memory, I could figure out how these functions work."

"Uh oh," Caboose muttered. "Uh yeah, I don't know, see, I uh, I think that, maybe, sounds like a bad idea. And I don't know if I would go-"

But then there was another click and Epsilon's eye flew open. "Uh oh."

"What?" Caboose cried. "What happened?"

"Oh crap," Epsilon sighed. "Instead of turning _on_ my long-term memory, I think I just shut _off_ my short-term memory."

"Oh," Caboose replied. "Is that bad?"

Epsilon was silent for a moment. "Huh? Is what bad?"

"Your memory thingy getting turned off."

"Who shut off my memory?"

"You did."

"I did what?"

"Shut off your memory."

"Why did you want me to shut off my memory?"

"No, it's already shut off."

"What is?"

"Your memory."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Wow," Tucker groaned. "Well, this is a drastic improvement. Hey, you!"

"Me?" Epsilon asked.

"Yes, you! Don't touch anything else or try to activate any computer stuff."

Epsilon was silent again then he turned to Caboose. "Are you gonna answer him?"

Suddenly there was another boom, this one louder than the last, and the whole temple trembled.

"Did you hear that?" Caboose cried.

"Aw, crap!" Tucker screamed.

"Oh my God," Epsilon yelled. "What are we yelling about?"

"I think they busted into the temple!" Tucker gasped.

"Oh fuck, that sounds bad," Epsilon gulped. "Where's the temple?"

"Jesus Christ," Tucker groaned. "Don't let him talk to me anymore!"

"Okay, don't talk to him," Caboose and Epsilon said to each other.

Tucker sighed as he ran out of the room. "I can't fucking believe I have two of them now."

* * *

**Yeah, one was bad enough. Uh, he's talking about Caboose, right?**


	18. Trust Issues

**Action is just around the corner in this chapter.**

* * *

Chapter 17: Trust Issues

At Valhalla, the Reds headed for the back entrance and removed the crates that blocked the way. Simmons carefully stepped outside, looked around for any signs of the Meta and then ducked back inside.

"Okay, here's the plan," he hissed. "We run straight for Blue Base. Keep your heads up and stay in formation. Lopez, you take the lead."

"Porqué tengo que llevar?" Lopez asked. (Why do I have to be in front?)

"Exactly," Simmons said. "I'll follow you, Lopez."

"I'll handle your rears!" Donut giggled.

Simmons grimaced. "Okay, change of plan: I'll be last. Lopez, you still go out in front."

"Por supuesto," Lopez muttered, stepping outside. (Of course I'm in front.)

"Donut, you'll be in the middle," Simmons said.

With a giggle, Donut ran out after Lopez. "It'll be a Donut sandwich, mmm-mmm!"

"Dammit, Donut, you can ruin anything," Simmons scowled.

With that, they set off into the valley, keeping their eyes peeled for any movement. They raced through the river and then stopped behind a boulder.

"Do you see anything?" Simmons hissed.

"Si viera algo, estaría tirándolo, dumbass," Lopez grunted. (If I saw something, I would be shooting, dumbass.)

"Well, keep your eyes open then."

Lopez rolled his eyes. "Porque usted me hace preguntas si usted nunca entiende las respuestas?" (Why do you guys always ask me questions if you never understand the answers?)

"He's white, Lopez! God, we've been over this."

"Dios mío." (Goddamn it.)

As they set off again, Donut glanced around nervously. "Simmons, I'm scared."

"It's okay," Simmons murmured. "We're all scared, Donut."

"Mí no asusta," Lopez retorted. "Hice respaldos de mí." (I'm not scared. I made back-ups of myself this morning.)

Meanwhile in the temple, while Caboose and Tucker were trying to catch up to Epsilon, Sarge let out a sneer. "I knew it. This was a trap!"

"What's a trap?" Grif asked.

"Don't you see, Grif?" Sarge snapped. "The Blues now have an advantage over us!"

"What, you mean they have a decent leader?"

"No, I mean they have three people and we only have two… approximately."

Grif raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You honestly believe that the Blues orchestrated all of this to get a one-man advantage?"

"Of course," Sarge cried. "They've been leading us along this entire time! It was all a diabolical scheme to get the drop on us! We just didn't see it until now, because it was so cunningly crafted."

Grif tousled his brown hair in puzzlement. "We're talking about the same Blues here, right? There's not some other group of Blues that I haven't heard of?"

"Of course not!"

"Yeah, then no, you're wrong. The new dude, he's a floating ball. I don't think he even counts as a person."

"Exactly! He's a wild card. We don't even know what he's capable of!"

"He's _a ball!_ He's capable of rolling, and maybe bouncing."

Suddenly there was a loud BOOM and the whole temple began to rumble.

"Great Paul and Ringo!" Sarge cried. "What the heck was that?"

"That did not sound good," Grif agreed.

Just then, Tucker went running back into the room with Caboose and Epsilon just behind him. "Did you guys hear that?"

"Hear what?" Grif asked. "Of course we heard that, idiot!"

Tucker looked out the other door and saw that the entrance room was considerably brighter. "Oh great, I think they broke down the door."

"What?" Epsilon cried. "Who would do that… thing you said to the other thing?"

Grif glanced up at the monitor. "What's wrong with him?"

Tucker sighed and turned round. "He disabled his memory or something dumb while trying to unlock this massive laser eye he's got, I don't know."

Grif's eyes widened in shock. "Laser?"

Sarge let out a growl. "See?"

Epsilon frowned. "Who has a laser?"

"You do," Caboose replied.

"I do?"

"Yes," Tucker grunted.

"That's awesome, man," Epsilon said. "I feel… great about whatever it is that we're talking about."

Tucker sighed and slapped a hand on his face. "Caboose, shouldn't you be killing him or something?"

Caboose thought about it for a second then he took out his battle rifle and whacked Epsilon on the head with it.

"OW!" Epsilon yelped. "Hey, cut it out!"

"Tucker did it," Caboose said.

"No he didn't, jackass, you did," Epsilon snapped.

Tucker looked up at this. "So you remember that?"

Epsilon frowned. "Why wouldn't I remember that?"

"You don't remember _why_ you wouldn't remember." Tucker rolled his eyes. "Then I guess you're fixed, fuck it."

Epsilon shook himself slowly. "You guys never make any goddamn sense."

"Yeah, that's _our_ problem," Tucker muttered.

Just then, C.T.'s voice rang out from just the entrance room. "Over here! Split up. You two, guard the entrance. Don't let them out."

Sarge looked round in alarm. "Uh, I think we have more pressing issues at the moment, fellas."

"He's right," Tucker confirmed, snatching up his helmet.

"I thought you said they couldn't bust through the door!" Grif cried.

Tucker looked baffled. "When did you guys start listening to _me?_"

"Everybody grab some cover!" Sarge ordered.

Quickly everyone dashed out of the room and into the passageway. Seconds later, a big alien stomped in and glanced around for a bit before waving out with a grunt. As a second alien joined, Grif and Tucker peeked round a corner to assess the situation before ducking back.

"Shit, there's two of them," Grif hissed.

"Grif, don't panic," Sarge reassured, taking out his shotgun. "You've been trained for this."

Grif looked round in confusion. "_This?_ I've been trained for _this?_ Being stuck in an ancient temple, surrounded by mystic technology, while being hunted by aliens from another planet? This is what I've been trained for?!"

"Okay, well maybe not this specifically," Sarge admitted, "but _elements_ of this, which when combined and liberally interpreted, bear a close resemblance to this."

"Not even close," Grif muttered, drawing out his assault rifle.

"Ah, just shut up and fight," Sarge growled, cocking his shotgun. "Today is a good day for you to die!" And with a great yell, he jumped out of cover and opened fire.

Grif charged after his leader and fired too. Sarge managed to take out one of the aliens but the other dodged Grif's fire and tossed a plasma grenade out, driving the Reds back.

"Whoa!" Sarge yelped as the grenade went off.

Then the alien whipped out a dart gun and fired, just missing Grif's head as he ducked down. "Look out!"

In another room, Tucker put on his helmet then he drew out his sword and peeked round the corner. "I just need them to get a little closer…"

But Caboose wasn't watching the battle. "Hey Church… are you doing that?"

"Doing what?" Epsilon turned round and spotted a box floating and gyrating right next to him. "Oh cool! Am I?" He focused his energy and the box rotated the other way. "Oh look, I am! It's awesome!"

Tucker looked round at the shouts and stared in amazement. "What the fuck…? When did you get telekinesis?"

"You have teleportesis?" Caboose cried. "Can you hear what I am thinking right now?"

"What? No!" Epsilon yelled.

"My guess would be… nothing," Tucker chuckled.

"Oh my God, Tucker has it too!" Caboose gasped.

"Look at this!" Epsilon laughed excitedly. "This is so kickass! I wonder what other powers I have." At that moment, he started to float off again and the box clattered to the ground. "Man, I could be the most powerful being in the entire universe. I'm like a superhero!"

"Where are you going?" Tucker asked.

"Oops," Epsilon muttered, floating out into the halls again. "Uh yeah, I seem to have lost control of my body again."

Tucker sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, some superhero… you fucking dick."

* * *

**Yep, Epsilon has some great powers; he just needs some work on the great responsibility.**


	19. Hang Time

**Back into the fray we go for our penultimate chapter.**

* * *

Chapter 18: Hang Time

As Sarge and Grif managed to take out the alien, another one raced in wielding a chain gun and opened fire, driving them back in the passage.

"Grif, listen," Sarge said, reloading his shotgun. "We may not both make it out of this."

"What?" Grif cried whilst shooting.

"If you die, I think I'm prepared to live with that," Sarge continued. "I practiced it a lot. But there's also a chance you might survive and I won't."

"There'd be a better chance if you'd help me _shoot!_" Grif snapped.

"In case I don't make it, I can't help but think about all the future mistakes you're gonna make that I'm not gonna be there to scream at you about!"

Grif rolled his eyes. "Oh stop, I'm getting all teary-eyed."

"I just want to let you know that at my bunk back at the base, there's a recorder deck. I've pre-recorded about 57 hours of rants that should be applicable in a variety of situations. Whenever you're feeling good about yourself, I want you to play one, and always remember somebody hates you."

Just as Grif had written a mental note to destroy that tape if Sarge did die, Epsilon floated into the room just behind the alien who stopped and looked up with a surprised growl.

"Oh hey, alien, what's up?" Epsilon called.

At once the alien dropped his gun and got down on his knees. Then Tucker ran into the room, Caboose just behind him. "Cease fire!"

Grif stopped shooting then he and Sarge came in as Epsilon frowned. "Um, the alien's being weird in here."

Grif stared at the alien in bafflement. "What's it doing?"

"No, no, I've seen this before," Tucker reassured. "Some of the aliens worship this ancient technology. This one probably thinks Church is some sort of god."

"_Wow,_ seriously?" Epsilon cried. "That's pretty fucking cool."

Caboose gasped in amazement. "Maybe that's why your name is Church!"

Epsilon let out a snigger then he used his telekinesis to lift up a nearby box. "Oh, what's up, praying dude? How do ya like me now?" And with that, he swung round and sent the box smashing right into the alien. "BAM-O!"

"W-T-Fuck!" Tucker cried. "Why did you do that? I think that's taking advantage of your deity status, dude!"

"Well, what good is being a god if you can't smite some people?" Epsilon asked. "Let's have fun…"

Just then a soldier's voice rang out from down the hall. "The shots came from down here!"

"Right, form up men!" C.T. commanded.

"Whoa, incoming!" Sarge cried.

Epsilon gulped and zipped out of the room. "Good luck, guys!"

At that moment, C.T., Smith and another soldier ran into the room, weapons raised. "Freeze!" C.T. snapped. "Lower your weapons!"

As more soldiers and aliens charged in to surround them, Sarge, Grif and Caboose placed their weapons on the ground. Tucker also switched off his sword and tossed it aside.

C.T. then stepped towards Tucker and took off his helmet, revealing the face of a very angry man with a thick mohawk running down the back of his head and a thin moustache that was bristled with rage. "You…" he sneered. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused me? I should kill you right here."

"Somebody's getting killed?" Epsilon cried, floating back into the room. "I wanna watch."

At the sight of Epsilon, the aliens growled in amazement and C.T. stepped back with a gasp. "You activated it?"

"Activated what?" Epsilon asked puzzled.

C.T. turned to the soldier next to Smith. "Secure the relic! Don't let it get away!"

With a nod, the soldier drew out a strange pistol with glowing green energy in its muzzle.

"Oh, cool pistol," Epsilon commented. "Green's my favorite color."

But then the soldier fired a pulse of energy at Epsilon and with a garbled cry, he switched off and fell with a clatter to the sand.

"Church!" Caboose gasped.

Smith and the other aliens let out growls of shock.

"_Yes!_" C.T. cheered. "Great shot, Jones!"

"Thanks," the soldier replied. "But it's actually pronounced Johannes, sir."

Then suddenly with an angered roar, Smith pounced on Johannes and started pounding him with his fist.

"Smith, what are you doing?" C.T. cried out.

Immediately, the other aliens drew out their weapons and opened fire on the soldiers.

"What's happening?" Sarge yelled.

"Dude, the aliens don't like their human buddies beating up on their religious artifacts," Tucker explained.

Quickly the soldiers began to fight back, but the aliens quickly overwhelmed them. One soldier tried to flee down the passage but two aliens shot him with their dart guns until he fell.

In the confusion, C.T. put his helmet back on, grabbed Epsilon and made a dash for the exit. "Get out of the way!"

Tucker grabbed his sword and gave the others their weapons back. "Let's go!"

"Wait!" Caboose cried. "We need to grab Church."

"That guy in brown armor grabbed him!" Grif yelled as they set off in pursuit.

Outside the temple, C.T. dashed up to the Elephant and called up to his remaining soldiers, "Cover me until I'm clear!"

At once two soldiers jumped behind the turrets while some others ran for the Mongoose ATVs parked inside. C.T. ran over to his jeep, dumped Epsilon into the passenger seat and then jumped in.

Just then Smith and the other aliens ran out the temple followed by Tucker, Caboose, Sarge and Grif. The soldiers behind the turrets opened fire but Smith took them out with a couple of grenades.

Then Grif spotted C.T. as he drove off in his jeep followed by the two Mongooses. "There he goes! Everybody, get in the jeep!"

They hurried back to the campsite where they'd left the Warthog Mk 3 v2 only to find it still upside down from their interrupted repairs. "We gotta get that thing turned over!" Grif cried, grabbing his helmet.

"I'll do it!" Caboose ran up to the jeep and flipped it over as easily as he would flip an empty box.

"Wow, you are strong," Sarge commended, putting on his helmet and tossing over Caboose's helmet.

"Is this thing even gonna start?" Grif asked, leaping into the driver's seat while Caboose took position behind the turret.

"Hopefully," Sarge muttered, taking the shotgun seat.

Grif turned the key but the engine just stuttered.

"Come on, Chupababy!" Sarge muttered.

Grif tried again and this time the engine spluttered into life and they set off in pursuit.

Caboose looked round and saw his teal teammate running the other direction. "Tucker, where are you going?"

"There's no room for me!" Tucker called out. "I'll be right back!"

Meanwhile at Valhalla, Simmons, Donut and Lopez had reached the Blue Base without any problems.

"Okay," Simmons hissed as they stepped towards the building. "Look for anything that looks like a vehicle. It may have wheels and/or seats."

"Sabemos cuáles es un vehículo!" Lopez snapped. (We know what a vehicle looks like!)

"Stay calm. Don't panic."

"Usted es el que ese que se atarita!" (You're the one who's panicking!)

"Lopez is right," Donut muttered nervously. "Maybe we should panic."

Simmons then made his way towards a boulder. "I'll try back here. It has to be- OOF!" He suddenly bumped right into an invisible object and slumped to the ground. "…somewhere."

"What the heck was that?" Donut cried. He and Lopez ran up just in time to see a Warthog appear out of nowhere. "What, an invisible car? That's _too cool._"

"The Meta must've cloaked it," Simmons coughed, staggering to his feet.

"Dije tan," Lopez muttered. (Told you so.)

"I've never seen anything like this before either, Lopez," Simmons hissed.

"Cójale!" (Fuck you!)

"Okay, everybody, hop in," Simmons ordered, jumping into the driver's seat. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

Back at Sandtrap, the Warthog Mk 3 v2 was catching up to C.T. and his escorts.

"There he goes!" Sarge yelled.

"Uh, yeah I see him," Grif replied.

"Well, see him faster!"

Behind the turret, Caboose spotted one of the Mongooses coming up from behind and saw that the soldier in the back seat was hefting a rocket launcher. "Look out for the guys behind us!"

"How can I look out for guys that are behind us?" Grif snapped.

The soldier fired a rocket at them and Grif swerved the jeep round to avoid it.

C.T. also swerved his jeep as the rocket narrowly missed him by inches. "Don't shoot at me!" he bellowed. "Shoot at them!"

At the foot of a dune, C.T. swung his vehicle round and went the opposite direction. The Mongoose drove halfway up the dune and zipped back round like a skateboarder on a ramp and set off after him. Grif spun the Warthog round and set off in pursuit.

The Mongoose passenger fired another rocket at them but Grif's expert driving once more saved them from death. Then he floored the accelerator and smashed the jeep into the back of the ATV. As they crested a small dune, the jeeps kept going but the Mongoose tumbled end over end before crashing upside down into the sand.

Meanwhile, two aliens leapt aboard one of their transports, a two-manned vehicle known as a Prowler, and took off after C.T.

By the ruins, C.T. turned to go another direction.

"Caboose, charge that cannon!" Sarge ordered.

"Okay!" Caboose flipped a switch and the cannon started humming. "It's running!"

"FIRE!"

Caboose hit the trigger and a blast of blue energy shot out of the cannon, just missing C.T.'s jeep. Then the Warthog's engine erupted into sparks and came to a halt.

"Hey!" Sarge cried.

"The engine died!" Grif yelled.

Just then the Prowler came roaring past the Warthog and set off into the ruins.

"Look, aliens!" Caboose cried. "Well, they must be here to help!"

"They're going after C.T.!" Sarge realized. "Grif, get the engine started!"

But then another rocket whizzed over their heads and Grif gulped in alarm. "Uh… Sarge?"

Sarge looked round to see the second Mongoose parked nearby, the passenger pointing a rocket launcher right at them. "Uh oh."

But then from the top of a high dune, Tucker's voice rang out. "HEY, ASSHOLES!"

Everyone looked up towards the dune… just as a huge vehicle came zooming over the top! At the wheel, Tucker let out a whooping cry. "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAAAHAAAAA AA-WHOAAAAAAAA!" he suddenly cried as he missed the Mongoose completely and crashed right into a ruined building. "Fuck!"

Caboose then looked over to Sarge. "Cannon's charged."

"Okay then, fuck it," Sarge muttered. "Shoot 'em."

So he did.

* * *

**Well that was anticlimactic.**


	20. Think You Know Someone

**And now we have reached the action-packed and rather shocking conclusion of this part.**

* * *

Chapter 19: Think You Know Someone

Everyone looked up towards the dune… just as a huge vehicle came zooming over the top! At the wheel, Tucker let out a whooping cry. "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAAAHAAAAA AA-WHOAAAAAAAA!" he suddenly cried as he missed the Mongoose completely and crashed right into a ruined building. "Fuck!"

Caboose then looked over to Sarge. "Cannon's charged."

"Okay then, fuck it," Sarge muttered. "Shoot 'em."

With a nod, Caboose fired another shot which blew up the Mongoose and sent the passengers flying. As the Warthog stalled again, Tucker rolled out the building in his motorcycle-like vehicle.

"Uh, hey guys," he muttered sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

Caboose stared at the vehicle in amazement. "Tucker, where did you get that?"

"Oh this is my ride!" Tucker beamed, patting the front of the bike. "The aliens gave it to me as a gift. I call it the Chopper. Pretty fucking cool."

"Did they give you driving lessons for that?" Grif asked.

"No, we kind of skipped that part," Tucker admitted. "But it looks awesome."

Meanwhile in the ruins, the aliens in their Prowler had caught up to C.T. and were now ramming into the jeep's side.

"Ahh!" C.T. yelped as he shook the wheel. "Move it, you piece of shit!"

But then the aliens ran into a pillar and C.T. took this moment to break loose and drive away. By the time they'd recovered, C.T. had disappeared. They drove slowly around the ruins, trying to spot him. Then as they passed a building, a honking noise made them look round… just as C.T. came barreling out of the shadows and smashed right into them, blowing up the Prowler and killing the passengers on board.

As he drove out of the ruins, Caboose spotted him. "There he is!"

"You guys follow him," Tucker ordered. "I'll cut him off."

"We can't lose Church," Caboose cried.

"We won't!" Tucker promised, driving up the dune in the Chopper.

"You always say that, but we always do!" Caboose shouted as they set off in pursuit.

Meanwhile, at Valhalla, Simmons turned the key in the Warthog but the engine just made stuttering sounds. "God dammit, it won't start."

"El quitó probablemente el arrancador," Lopez assumed. (He probably took out the starter. That's what I would do.)

Simmons glanced down at the wheel. "Hmmm, it looks like he took out the starter."

Lopez let out a sigh. "Realmente. Nada mierda." (Really… Well, no shit.)

"What do we do?" Donut whimpered.

"Empujaremos el coche," Lopez ordered. "Usted hace estallar el embrague!" (Stay in there! We'll push the car. You pop the clutch.)

"It's no good," Donut sobbed. "We can't do _anything!_ All hope is lost."

"Seriamente. Solamente diez pies!" (Seriously. We only need to push it about ten meters!)

Suddenly, there was a loud roar and Simmons looked up with a gasp of horror. "Oh no, the Meta!"

Lopez whirled round and saw the Meta stomping closer towards them. "Oh mierda."

"What are we gonna do without any ammo?" Donut yelped. "We're trapped."

"Ha, this thing always has ammo." Simmons leapt out of the driver's seat and ran over to the turret.

"No dará vueltas sin la energía, idiota," Lopez warned. (You won't be strong enough to turn it without power.)

Simmons grabbed the turret, opened fire and tried to turn it round but could only go about three inches in either direction. "Oh, fuck."

Lopez rolled his eyes. "Usted puedo convencerlo quizá colocarse delante de él," he muttered sarcastically. (Maybe you could convince him to stand in front of him.)

"What?" Simmons asked as he jumped down.

"He said maybe you could convince the Meta to stand in front of it," Donut interpreted, correctly for once.

"That's a stupid plan, Lopez," Simmons scoffed. "Try to actually help."

Lopez stared at them in disbelief. "Seriamente. Que usted entendía?" (Come on, really? THAT was the only thing you understood?)

"I agree, Lopez," Donut replied. "Pencils _are_ great."

Back in the desert, Grif, Sarge and Caboose had caught up with C.T. once again.

"Caboose, what are you doing back there?" Sarge bellowed. "Shoot him!"

"Okay!" Caboose replied.

"No, don't shoot him!" Grif yelled. "You'll stall the jeep!"

"Okay!"

"Grif, you drive," Sarge snapped. "Don't give Caboose directions. Caboose, don't respond to Grif!"

"Okay!"

Up ahead, Tucker stopped his Chopper at the top of the dune and jumped off. "I only have one shot at this," he murmured as he drew out his sword and surfed down the dune.

Just then, Caboose fired another EMP pulse at C.T. but again he missed and again the Warthog spluttered and died.

"Jeep stalled!" Grif cried.

"Just user error!" Sarge replied.

"Yeah, that's what it is."

Tucker looked up and saw C.T. driving towards him. "Gotta time this- NOW!"

Just as C.T. was about to drive past, Tucker swung out his sword and cut right through the front tire into the steering column. The jeep swerved round and came to a stop and then KABOOOOOOMMM! It exploded into a burst of flame, throwing C.T. to the side.

"Whoa!" Grif gasped then he spotted C.T as he got up and ran for the spire. "Tucker, look he's still alive!"

"I'll get C.T.," Tucker cried, running after him. "You guys find Church."

"Okay," Caboose leapt off the turret then he and the Reds ran over to the burning jeep and began the search. "Church, where are you?"

Meanwhile, Tucker spotted C.T. as he ran up the stairs behind the temple and set off after him, but as he was halfway up, the drivers of the first Mongoose appeared. "Hold it right there, asshole!" one soldier cried.

Tucker scowled and held up his sword. "Just try and stop me, dickheads!"

The first soldier charged forward but Tucker plunged the sword into his chest then threw him aside. The other soldier raised his pistol to fire but Tucker quickly ducked the shots. "Hey, buddy, think fast!"

He tossed his sword over to the soldier who managed to catch it. "HA! Bad move, motherfucker!" He raised the sword up to slice down Tucker, but then it switched off. "What the hell...?

Tucker just shrugged then he punched the soldier in the face, knocking him off the stairs and down into the sands below. Tucker then snatched the sword back up again. "Nobody messes with my thing, asshole!"

Tucker then ran to the top of the spire but there was no sign of C.T. "Where the hell did he go?"

Suddenly, a shot rang out and Tucker gasped as he felt his sword get ripped out of his hand. "Freeze!"

Tucker whirled round to see C.T. standing up from behind a pedestal and pointing an assault rifle at him. "Damn it!"

"Tucker, I should have killed you the second I laid eyes on you," C.T. growled, stepping closer to Tucker and forcing him towards the edge of the roof. "I would've been long gone if you hadn't interfered."

Tucker gulped as he felt his heels slip by the edge. "Okay, dude, I guess, you got me," he sighed in resignation. "I've got nowhere to go. Just tell one thing though, who are you really? And who sent you here?"

"Sorry," C.T. retorted as he raised his gun. "You'll never know…"

But then Epsilon rose up from behind Tucker. "Hey, what's up?"

C.T. looked up in amazement. "What the hell _is_ that thing?"

Epsilon whirled round to face him and as he did, his eye began to glow an angry red.

C.T. stepped back in horror. "Oh, son of a b-"

KRA-ZHOOOOOOWWWW! A laser beam shot out from Epsilon's and blasted right through C.T.'s chest, exactly like the image on the film.

"I am not a thing!" Epsilon bellowed. "My name is Leonard Church… and you will fear my LASER FACE!"

C.T. opened his mouth to speak but only a strangled gasp came out before the eye-lights in his helmet faded and he slumped to the ground dead.

"Oh-ho, hell yeah!" Tucker cheered. "Dude, you just got fucked up!"

Just then Caboose and the Reds came running up the stairs.

"Wow!" Caboose cried. "Now _that_ was awesome."

"Yeah, awesome," Grif muttered nervously.

"Church, how did you do that?" Tucker asked.

"I don't really know," Epsilon admitted. "I just got really mad and it just kind of, you know, happened."

"Can you do that again, like to the yellow guy or something?"

"I guess… but I'm not really sure."

Sarge looked nervous. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"For once, Sarge, you and I agree," Grif muttered.

"Look guys, we need to get our head in the game," Tucker said. "Let's get back to that temple and close it down for good."

Caboose however was glancing over the edge. "Um, guys… I think we have a problem."

The Reds, Tucker and Epsilon all looked down to see a horde of aliens surrounding the base of the temple. Epsilon's eye light dilated. "Uh oh…"

Back at Valhalla, the other Reds were facing a similar dilemma. As the Meta drew closer, Donut gulped and grabbed his teammate's hand and Simmons just smiled back at him. Lopez meanwhile was psyching himself up, deciding whether he should flee and leave them to it or to charge at the Meta and possibly get torn apart.

But then, Simmons spotted another figure running out from behind some boulders, a Spartan-II wearing steel-grey armor with a yellow stripe on its helmet and yellow shoulder pads. "Agent Washington…" he breathed then aloud, "It's Agent Washington!"

"Who?" Donut asked.

At once, Washington ran up, drew out a pistol and pointed it at the Meta. "Stop right there!"

The Meta halted in his tracks and turned to Wash with a hissing growl.

"Yes, we're saved!" Simmons cheered.

But then Wash stepped up to the Meta and glared at him. "Stand down, I'll take it from here."

The Meta hissed again.

"I said, back off!" Wash snapped and the Meta obeyed.

Simmons' jaw dropped. "Wha-What's happening?"

Wash turned and pointed his pistol at him. "Where is it?"

"Where's what?" Simmons cried. "Why aren't you two fighting?"

"The Epsilon unit," Wash replied. "I know you have it. Give it to me."

Lopez turned slowly to Simmons. "Pensé que éste su amigo?" (I thought this guy was your friend?)

"Wait, wait, wait," Simmons gasped. "You're working with… the Meta?"

Wash cocked his gun and growled, "Don't make me repeat myself!"

"Qué se está entendiendo?" Lopez cried. (Would someone explain what's going on?)

In response, Wash turned and fired at Lopez. The robot's visor shattered, sparks flew from his helmet and with a warbled cry, he fell to the ground.

"Oh my God, he just shot Lopez!" Donut screamed.

Wash turned round again and fired once more. Donut's body jerked back and behind him, the Warthog's windscreen shattered.

Simmons stared at his teammate in horror. "Donut?"

Donut said nothing but placed a hand on his chest before looking down and seeing it stained with blood. "Hey, Simmons… I think he shot me too…" And then with a gasp, he collapsed face forward to the ground.

"DONUT! NOOOOO!" Simmons screamed, kneeling by the pink private's side. "Donut, Donut! Are you okay? Come on, breathe, Donut! Breathe!" He then turned and glared at Wash. "Why did you do that? What's wrong with you?"

Wash said nothing, the only thing passing through his mind being the last conversation with the Chairman…

"Now, Agent Washington, I just have one more question for you," Malcolm said as he watched Wash getting back into his armor. "Agent Washington? Agent Washington, are you listening to me?"

"Mm?" Wash asked, looking up. "Yes, I'm listening."

"Agent Washington, when you find these Blue soldiers that you're talking about, what makes you think that they are just going to give you the Epsilon unit when you ask them for it?"

Wash just chuckled as he slipped his helmet on. "For as long as I can remember, I've been lied to, taken advantage of, shot in the back, and left for dead. And now I have a way out of this…" He looked up at the monitor with an angry and serious face. "What in the hell makes _you_ think that I'm going to ask for it?"

* * *

**WHAT?! Holy mackerel skies in the morning, what has come over Washington? Has the Meta truly won? Will the others be able to save Simmons in time? And… I am just speechless now. This is the most terrifying cliffhanger ever seen in Red vs. Blue. I guess we'll have to find what happens next in the last part of this trilogy.**

**Thanks to all the readers who been following me and I'll see you again once I've gotten over the shock.**

**See you**


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